


In the Blood

by Megara Bee (Megara_Bee)



Series: In the Blood!Verse [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Menstruation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Smut, he drinks her menstrual blood if that wasn't clear, vampire fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:23:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 45,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5118455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megara_Bee/pseuds/Megara%20Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle French will never be able to settle her father's debts; of that she is certain. But she is hopeful that Mr. Gold, the most feared creature in Storybrooke, will accept her blood in trade. Unfortunately for her, he has something much more devious in mind...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Belle French tugged nervously at the hem of her skirt. Standing before the pawnshop, she took deep, even breaths and reminded herself of the enormous importance of this meeting.

The debt had to be paid.

Since her father had failed to pay back a single cent and had overburdened himself to the point of destruction, it fell on Belle to do whatever she could to alleviate the financial strain. She’d closed the shop, sold off everything (including the kitchenette sink), and had sold any and all items of value in their home. She’d managed to transfer all of their funds into her name, not that there was any money to speak of. Belle’s job at the library paid minimum wage, enough to buy groceries, and they owned their home outright. They were surviving. But when property taxes rolled around next year, or if an emergency arose, they’d be swamped.

The bell above the door chimed when she entered.

Mr. Gold looked up from his accounts only long enough to see who it was that disturbed his solitude. He continued to scribble in the ledger with his quill, dipping it in ink periodically. She took careful steps up to the counter and waited, hands folded in front of her. His manservant stood to the side, but did not seem to notice Belle at all. Only when Gold put down his pen and looked up, waving a hand in dismissal, did the manservant move at all. He disappeared through the curtain and Belle heard the back door open and close quietly.

“Ms. French. Not here to shop, I presume.”

“No, Mr. Gold, I’m not.”

“Then how can I help you?” He flashed her a smile that showed off his canine teeth quite nicely, their abnormally long points glinting in the dim light.

“I want to deal.”

He tutted at her, strolling slowly around the counter to stand in front of her. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

“My father owes you a great debt. An insurmountable debt. I will never be done paying it off, but perhaps we could bring the sum down a bit.”

“What have you brought me?”

Belle cleared her throat and looked down at her feet, fidgeting under his scrutiny. He growled and startled her, drawing her gaze back up until she was staring into his honey-brown eyes. When had he gotten so close?

“What have you brought me, Ms. French?”

“I have nothing of value. That is… nothing of value t-to anyone, b-but you.” She emphasized the last word, making her meaning clear, and steeled her nerves. If he should react violently or hit her, she’d leave right now and go to the authorities.

Instead he only frowned, his stare flicking back and forth between her eyes. “I didn’t realize you were so desperate, Ms. French.”

It was her turn to frown. “Please do not belittle me. I am offering you something you need in exchange for money subtracted from my debt. Are you open to negotiation or not?”

He stepped back. “It’s your father’s debt. Why isn’t he here making the offer?”

She looked at her feet again.

“Oh, I see. He doesn’t know you’re here.”

Belle felt the heat of a scarlet blush shoot across her chest and burn her cheeks. “No, he doesn’t.”

“I’m curious. How does he plan on settling the debt?”

She glared at him. Belle was not an angry person, but he was treading on her carefully steadied nerves. “I will not make the offer again, and I will not stand here to be tormented like an ant under your magnifying glass.”

He snarled now, but kept his distance. “It upsets me that the burden of a careless man’s life should fall onto his daughter, and that he should do nothing to stop it. I can imagine no crime more heinous.” With a huff, he straightened his jacket and ran a hand through his hair. “I am willing to negotiate with you. But a deal in blood is stronger than any other on this Earth and cannot be entered unwillingly. Are you certain of your choice?”

She let the word fall from her lips before she could stop it. “Yes.”

He turned in a quick circle and by the time he faced her again, he was different. He was all wolf, fangs and a devouring grin. “Well then. Let’s see what you have to offer.” He steepled his fingers and tapped them against one another thoughtfully, prowling around her. “May I have your permission to touch you?”

She nodded. He disappeared from her line of sight as he stood at her back, but she could feel his every move, every breath. Despite his request for permission, she didn’t feel his hands on her body. Instead she felt the whispers of pressure, a warm tingle in the places where his body drew close and a cool breeze as he pulled away. He _didn’t_ touch every curve of her back and arms, the lines of her legs and buttocks.

As his hands rose up to the back of her neck, the urge to sway back and give in to his touch was nearly overpowering.

He moved to her front again and finally, _finally_ placed his skin on hers. The sensation was electric; his fingers moving across her neck, his palm cupping the corner of her jaw, his thumb stroking across her cheek. She shuddered, inhaling sharply. As her lips parted with her breath, he drew his hand down, his thumb catching the edge of her bottom lip. He took his hand from her then, and stepped away. She noticed, keenly perhaps, that she was not the only one drawing ragged breaths.

Gold retreated behind his counter. “No,” he said, placing his palms on the glass and leaning forward. There was a wicked grin building at the corner of his lips. “No, I won’t take a drop of blood from your veins. I wouldn’t risk spoiling the flush of your cheek, Ms. French, or the fullness of your lips.”

Belle felt her heart contort itself. Tears threatened to fall and anger rose once more in her chest. “I see. Good day then, Mr. Gold.” She turned to go but his voice stopped her footfalls.

“Impatience is not a virtue, Ms. French. I wasn’t done.”

“Oh, did you want to insult me again? I do beg your pardon.”

“I will not _take_ your blood, but that does not eliminate your options. I assume you’re healthy and fertile?”

She whipped around, confused and more than a little repulsed. “Excuse you?”

“Think about it, Dearie. Blood that isn’t taken…”

Belle furrowed her brow, but it only took a moment for the figurative bulb above her head to light. “Oh! Oh… You mean…”

“Menstrual blood. Yes, Dearie.” He strode around the counter again, keeping one hand on the glass. “God’s monthly installment plan. I could be persuaded to accept those payments on his behalf. For a year, perhaps. ”

Belle felt the world falling apart around her. Her gaze blurred; she could see only the points of his teeth and could hear only the pounding of her own heart. It was almost comical, the juxtaposition he suggested. She could ease their debt without doing anything more than that which biology demanded of her, for twelve easy payments of blood.

When the shock had worn off, she managed to form a question. “H-how would, would you…”

“Collect?” His grin turned lascivious. “Of course you’d live with me during the duration of your cycle each month, in order for me to have proper…. Access. And it wouldn’t do to let anything else touch the blood. None of those rubber cups or absorbent cloths. No, I’d insist on collecting it myself.”

“Y-you mean…”

“My mouth, Dearie,” he said, leaning forward, “on your _cunt_.”

She took a moment to recover from the visual. “Is bluntness a virtue in your world, Mr. Gold?”

“Aye, it does help.”

Belle took two steps forward, pushing into his space. She leaned until their faces were just inches apart, his brown eyes locked with her blue ones. “Draw up the contract, Mr. Gold, and send it over. I’ll bring it back tomorrow to make changes and sign.”

He furrowed his brow, his stare changing into one she couldn’t read.

“Goodbye then, Mr. Gold.” Belle turned and strode from the shop as quickly as she could manage. The fresh air burned her lungs as she gasped for breath, racing around the corner and throwing herself against the side of the building.

She leaned, the cement poking her back, and breathed. She lost track of time, but by the time she got back to the house it was nearly ten. She’d left for the shop at precisely 8:30.

Unlocking the front door, Belle could still smell the tequila and ash from the living room which indicated that her father was not yet up. Sure enough, he was snoring from the couch. She sighed. She did not have the patience to fight him today.

Belle started her usual dash up the stairs but was arrested halfway up the flight. She turned her gaze to the mirror on the wall an examined her own reflection. She was still pale. Belle ran a hand over her cheek, rubbing her middle finger over the dark bag beneath her right eye.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Bluebell?” she whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

Gold retreated to his back room the moment the French girl was out of his shop. He grabbed the fifth of scotch from its hiding place and poured himself a glass. Downing it, he poured another. This one he held and sipped as he walked to the backdoor, throwing it open.

Dove entered, moving to the side and waiting for instruction.

“I won’t be making rent rounds, today; I have to draw up a contract. Go and collect, and lord help you if you go easy on any of them.” His manservant nodded, leaving the shop through the front entrance. Dove was a good worker and a loyal man, but he was too soft. He didn’t have the follow-through required of a landlord.

With Dove gone, Gold sat at his dusty typewriter and leaned back in the chair. He sighed.

What the fuck was Belle French thinking?

He had not realized their situation was so desperate. Usually he had a keen eye for these sorts of things, could see weakness and exploit it for fun and profit. He had not seen any weakness in the librarian today. With her towering heels and her peculiar sense of fashion, she had squared off against him and proven herself every inch the woman he knew her to be. She was fearless, and she was desperate. It was a lethal combination.

He let his fingers do the heavy lifting for the introductory paragraphs. Basic legal-ese designed to confuse those who came to him seeking the magical answer to their most portentous problems. Fools.

His mind wandered. How old was the French girl now? Twenty-two, twenty-three? He’d heard that she’d gone off to a four-year college on a full-ride scholarship, pride of the town, and come back with a degree in English and Communication Arts. He knew that she volunteered her time generously at the local homeless shelter, and that she had the most unnerving habit of smiling at him on the street.

He’d met her at sixteen or thereabouts when he’d run into her rounding a corner with a book in her hands. She’d apologized and looked up at him with those round blue eyes, batting her lashes and smiling, as if he wasn’t the town monster. He remembered viscerally the feeling of his stomach churning, his lungs burning as if the air had been sucked from the street. When he handed her book back and their fingers brushed, it ignited something in his blood that he didn’t have a name for.

He’d gone home and lain at the bottom of a cold bath until he felt appropriately dead again, and then downed a bottle of scotch for good measure.

For a few years he watched her, tentatively and from afar. She was an odd duck, a kind heart, and obviously too good of a person. Why else would she smile at monsters? Why else would she allow that swine of a father to derail her dreams and burden her with his own problems?

He recalled with a grin how easy it was to terrify Moe French. A snarl here, a glare there, a few well-worded insults… it was like taking candy from a baby. The fool had probably heard the old legends; the horrible Master Gold swooping down from his manor to kidnap virgins and ravish them in the town square, followed by drinking them dry.

Rape, murder… peasants had so little imagination. It was much more fun to be the insidious thing which lurks in plain sight, offering them their wildest dreams and demanding a heavy price. Offering no second chances. Making them pay for their own stupidity. _That_ was his style. Not baseless cruelty.

His hands stopped typing. This was the difficult part: definition of services to be rendered by both parties. He would…Belle was going to…

He sighed.

Putting this abomination in words was more horrible than he’d imagined. When she’d strolled into his shop, he’d imagined the type of payment he’d be able to extract from her: he’d have her polishing silver on the weekends, or hire her on as a caretaker for his rather large estate. And when she’d suggested blood… well, he couldn’t have that. He’d been aiming to revolt her, to enrage her! Any reaction but level-headed bargaining.

Not in a million years did he expect her to agree to… this.

And now he was royally screwed.  

He’d touched her again, and felt the same shock through his core that had rattled him seven years ago. Now he’d have her in his house every month, touching her most sensitive place with his lips and his tongue; he’d know the taste of her blood.

Assuming she went through with their deal, of course. If she was half as stubborn as she seemed, then he was doomed.

A few hours (and several glasses of scotch later) he assembled the pages and handed them off to Dove. He was going home early today, and he was going to submerge himself in the tub until every nerve ending in his lungs ceased their struggle for survival and went numb, until his brain was clear and sharp and he could return to being a feared creature of the night, no longer in danger of becoming the librarian’s pet vampire.

Fuck. He was so doomed.


	3. Chapter 3

Belle returned to his shop at the same time the next morning, contract in hand. The pages were marked with sticky tabs.

“You look awful, Ms. French. Don’t you sleep?”

“Not all of us have a solid gold coffin, I’m sure.”

He raised an eyebrow and she sighed.

“Sorry. No, I didn’t get any sleep last night. Let’s get to business, shall we? There are a few things we need to change and some things I have questions about.”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

She dropped the pages on the counter. “Number one, ‘if the undersigned becomes permanently injured or dead, she absolves the contract holder of any responsibility.’”

“Yes?”

“If you murder me, it’s my own fault?”

“You might fall down a flight of stairs or drop your cellphone in the bathtub. Why did you jump straight to murder?”

She took a pen from her purse and crossed out the lines. “‘In the event of death, accidental or otherwise, a proper investigation by the local authorities shall be carried out with the full cooperation of the contract holder. If it is determined accidental, undersigned agrees to absolve him of all fault.’ Good enough?”

Taking up his quill, he initialed the new line and so did she.

“Next, ‘the contract holder agrees to pay $1500 each month for a period of 12 months, provided that the undersigned performs duties within acceptable parameters.’”

She paused.

“Question or complaint, Dearie?”

“Both. We didn’t discuss price yesterday, but this is far too high. And the term “acceptable parameters” should be more clearly defined.”

“You’re an average woman, correct? Approximately five days of work per month during which you would be unable to perform your normal job. I’d require you to be at my home 24 hours a day and at a pathetic minimum wage, that’s just over 200 dollars a day. We round up to $1,100 for services rendered, and additional compensation for your evenings, nearly 400 dollars. That comes to me paying you $1,500 a month or $18,000 total.”

“No, you shouldn’t be paying me at all. It should all come off the principal balance of the loan.”

“Eleven hundred comes off the loan each month, the rest in your pocket. Deal?”

“Fine. Acceptable parameters?”

“To be honest, I felt uncomfortable writing ‘provided that the undersigned allows me to lap at her cunt and drink her blood without doing anything extreme, like kicking me in the face.’”

Belle blushed. “Oh. When you put it like that, acceptable parameters shall suffice. Next, Clause C.”

He scowled. “Clause C is for your protection. How can you possibly disagree with it?”

“I don’t, I’m just curious. I assumed…”

“What?”

“Well, I’m already giving you access to that part of my anatomy. I thought… I thought you might…”

He made a sound of disgust. “That I’d take advantage of your desperation to rape you? I’m a monster, Ms. French, but I have morals. I will never touch you without your explicit consent, not in any way. If I do, you will have the full legal right to press charges and will receive the full amount of the year’s payment.”

“I understand, Mr. Gold. Please don’t think I’m ignorant or unappreciative of this. I just… it doesn’t fit with your reputation. You’re supposed to swindle and manipulate your victims, not protect them.”

“I don’t swindle anyone, Ms. French. If someone is too stupid to read a contract before signing it, that’s their fault.”

Belle nodded, biting her lower lip. “I see.”

“Did you have any other questions?”

“Just one. What do you get out of this deal?”

“Blood. Your blood, Dearie, unless I’m much mistaken.”

“Not eighteen thousand dollars’ worth. Not even close.”

Gold stiffened. Flipping to the last page, he signed on the appropriate line and dated his signature.

“Sign it or don’t. I have other business to attend to, Dearie. I trust you can see yourself out.” He turned, brushing the curtain aside.

“How shall I contact you?” Belle called, signing the contract with a flourish. “When it’s… time?”

“Smoke signal, carrier pigeon, or you could just call the shop. We’re in the phonebook.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gold. I appreciate your generosity.”

He paused, turning to snarl at the librarian. “Don’t thank me, Ms. French. You still don’t understand what you’ve gotten yourself into.” With that he closed the curtain, disappearing from her sight.

Belle paused a moment, hoping he might come back out and shake her hand or something. But there wasn’t a sound from the back room, not even a mouse, so she squeezed her purse in her hands and left, leaving the contract on the glass counter.


	4. Chapter 4

It was Monday, January 17th when Belle woke up from a particularly stimulating dream about the pawnshop owner to find the first traces of blood in her underwear. She had left his shop not five days ago and already nature had betrayed her, pushing her into this deal she might not even be ready for.

After her shower and breakfast, she called the library. She’d told her boss about her absences, and they’d worked out a schedule that had Belle at the library from open to close most days, pulling extra duty so that Astrid could take the shifts she’d be missing. Belle was just grateful to still be employed, even if she was exhausted.

Her next call was to the pawnshop.

Forgetting her manners entirely, she didn’t even introduce herself. All she could manage after hearing his deep, Scottish brogue was “It’s time. It’s started.”

“Understood. Be at my home by noon.”

Then he hung up.

Belle stared at her empty suitcase for what felt like an hour. What did one bring to be a kept woman on her period? Fancy clothes to match his suits, or the sweatpants she knew she’d want if her cramps started up? And was kept woman even the right term? She felt more like a vending machine.

Eventually she threw in a few dresses, some shorts and sweatpants, tank tops and sweaters, your standard pairs of underwear, a little old and definitely not sexy. Only two bras; hopefully she wouldn’t have to wear them. Add in the brushes, both hair and tooth, and voila! Bag packed.

Belle carried the suitcase downstairs and set it by the door. Her father was asleep on the couch again. She couldn’t just take off without talking to him, even if he didn’t remember the conversation.

“Papa? Papa. Papa, I need to talk to you.”

“Hmm? Whazat, Belle?”

“I’m going away for a few days. There’s plenty of food in the pantry. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“What? No, Belle, no, you can’t go. Where are you going?” he blubbered, taking her hands in his sweaty palms.

“I have to go. Don’t worry about me, Papa. I’ll be fine.”

“No, Belle, please don’t leave me!”

“It’s just ‘til the weekend, maybe sooner. I made a promise, Papa, and I have to go.” She tore her hands away and stood. Moe rubbed his face, smearing tears in with the dirt and the sweat. He blubbered a bit, but he was asleep within moments.

She sighed, grabbed all the empty and half-empty bottles from around the room, and took them into the kitchen. She had no idea where he got the stuff, but she poured every ounce down the sink and tossed the glass into the recycling bin.

Belle left before she got really frustrated and threw his cigarettes in the garbage disposal.

She threw her suitcase in the back of her car. Within twenty minutes she’d reached his house. He’d called it an estate, and that was accurate; the drive up to the house was longer than Main Street.

Gathering all her courage, she rang the bell. An old woman answered.

“Oh. Hello,” Belle said.

“You’ll be Miss French. I’m to take you to your room. You will wait there until Master Gold arrives.”

“Does he make you call him Master?”

The woman didn’t answer. She took Belle’s suitcase and started off through the house. Belle scrambled to follow, shutting the door behind her. She could get lost in a house this big, Belle thought, as they moved into a large parlor. Two curved staircases filled the back half of the room, and it was to the right that the woman, apparently a housekeeper, ascended with surprising agility. Belle raced behind. _Right,_ she thought to herself, _right right right._

They went down a long hallway and took a left. Apparently her room was in a tower, a fact which amused her to no end. She mouthed a silent exclamation upon entering. It was actually an octagon, and rather large. The bed had to be king sized, the soft green color of the bedding offsetting the wood furniture perfectly. Artwork lined the walls.

“I’m to stay here? Are you sure?”

“Mhmm. He told me you’d be impatient and want to go explore, and to tell you that there’s a handful of books in the drawer of the nightstand.” The woman turned to go.

“Wait, I didn’t catch your name?”

The woman apparently didn’t care to supply one, and didn’t stop on her way out. Belle hoped she would not spend all her time here friendless and alone.

With a huff she dropped to the bed and opened the drawer full of books. A battered copy of King Lear caught her eye and she picked it up, reclining on the mountain of pillows.

It was amazing how quickly she became absorbed into books. It was Act III by the time someone knocked on her door.

“Uh, come in?”

Mr. Gold entered, shutting the door softly behind him.

“Hello, Ms. French.”

“Hello, Mr. Gold.”

“I would have liked to have been here to greet you personally. I regret that I was busy.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Silence hung between them like cobwebs. Belle broke it.

“Um, how do we…?”

He sighed. Removing his jacket, Gold hung it neatly from a bedpost. “I will offer you one more chance to flee, Ms. French. If you wish it.”

“I don’t go back on my deals.”

“Alright. Then please remove any layers which will impede my access.”

Belle swallowed. Reaching down, she hooked her thumbs in the underwear and wriggled out of them. She thanked herself for wearing a skirt, as it allowed her to remain partially hidden from his sight.

Gold sat at the bed by her feet. He cleared his throat. “I just want to emphasize before we begin that, erm… Stimulation of the vagina can lead to arousal, regardless of the circumstances. Neither of us need interpret such a physical reaction to anything but the act which I am about to perform. Per clause C, I understand that this is not consent in any form and will not do more than collect the blood I am due. Are we agreed?”

Belle nodded. “Agreed.”

“Alright. I will of course be using my tongue. You may also feel my teeth, though I will endeavor not to hurt you. I may also place my hands on your thighs. Are these things all acceptable?”

She nodded again. “Yes. Do you require anything of me?”

“Just lay back and stay still.”

Belle did as he asked, sinking back into the pile of pillows once more. She tried to push all the deeply ingrained Puritanical notions of sex deep into the recesses of her mind, spreading her legs across the bed. _You signed up for this_ , she reminded herself. Still she fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing her arms, balling and unballing her fists. He moved slowly, as though afraid of spooking her, and crawled to lie between her legs. He lifted her skirt, folding it up.

Now he could see all of her.

She hoped she wasn’t too sweaty, or too hairy, or… malformed, in some way. No one had ever complained before, but she wasn’t sure anyone had ever seen her in the light of day before. Besides, if anyone would notice her imperfections, it would be the fastidious Mr. Gold.

He didn’t say anything.

Belle shivered as his breath ghosted over her labia. He set his hands on her thighs, as he’d mentioned, and set his thumbs to rubbing soothing circles across her skin. He hesitated in taking the first taste. Was he as nervous as she was? That seemed silly. To him it was just blood. He was paying for it.

But the charge she felt when his tongue touched her, sliding through her folds, sent all rational thought from her mind. Her hips bucked. With each swipe the electricity of the contact lessened, but she felt more and more flushed as heat pooled in her chest and her cheeks, and in her abdomen.

Arousal was not quire the right term, because she still felt anger at his coldness and his insults in the back of her mind. And she wasn’t at all sure she could trust him, but she really didn’t have much choice. There was an undeniable chemistry between them, the same powerful force that had had her nearly in his lap during their first meeting, and now it had her hips shifting beneath his touch and a different sort of wetness mingling with her blood.

When he had licked her clean, he sat up, covering her with her skirt. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket he dabbed at his mouth demurely. She could see the hint of red on the white cloth.

“That should do for several hours,” he said, his voice more husky than normal. He stood and took his jacket. “I need a moment, and I imagine you do as well, but I would be happy to show you around the house if you like.”

“Y-yes, I would like that.”

“Excellent. Lunch will be ready in about an hour. Shall we go before?”

She nodded.

“I’ll see you in 45 minutes. Good day,” he said, nodding curtly and letting himself out of the room.

Belle heaved a deep sigh and collapsed back against the bed.

She was glad to have him gone. Her head felt all muddled when he was in the room; the air felt thicker. She needed to clear her mind, and the best was to do that would be to make a list of all the things bothering her.

1\. She didn’t understand what he was gaining from the deal.

2\. At their first meeting he had been flirtatious, cold, brash, and cruel in equal measure. At their second, he had been both compliant, suspiciously so, and also disgusted at the idea that he might abuse her in some way. She did not understand how the infamous, blood-drinking dealmaker of Storybrooke could be the same man who, at least so far in this venture, had been incredibly concerned about her safety and state of mind.

3\. She’d been warned all her life not to trust him, but the connection they were forging in this deal was sure to bring about a certain level of intimacy. Could those two things both exist within her?  

She sighed, and picked up the book. It didn’t really matter what she wanted at this point. She needed this deal. And besides, she thought with a pang of guilt, she was really quite happy to be away from her father for a few days.

Her thighs rubbed together unconsciously while she read, still tingling from the... the...

They were going to have to find a name for it.


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as the door closed behind him, Belle safely on the other side, Gold hunched over. Clutching his stomach, he walked down the corridor as quickly as he could without collapsing. He made it to his bedchamber, throwing open the great oak door with a fist and splintering it in the process. As it slammed shut behind him, he fell to the floor.

His lungs were searing, his temples throbbing. This girl was going to kill him.

From the moment he’d entered her bedroom he’d known it, known it like it was a bone growing inside him. And every moment he’d stayed had made it worse and worse. Seeing her naked before him had fulfilled a deep desire he hadn’t known existed; her bare cunt, with its patch of downy hair and sweet odor, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It had literally taken his breath away, stunning him into silence.

Her blood tasted like heaven. Blood magic was powerful stuff, and the warmth of her on his tongue had ensnared him completely. Looking back on it from the ground of his own room, he couldn’t even remember if he’d been gentle. All he knew for certain was that he’d licked up every drop of her, and that in half an hour he needed to be presentable in order to show her around the house.

Standing on shaky legs, he stripped off all his layers and headed for the en suite master bath. A cold shower was just what he needed. Once there, though, he found himself in a most unusual state.

His cock was erect and pressing against his pelvis.

Blood still flowed in his veins, despite his undead state, but it flowed much more slowly than human blood. To have enough of it reach his crotch and make him hard was miraculous in and of itself, but in the last, what, fifteen minutes? Twenty?

He had warned Belle that she didn’t understand what this deal would entail. It seemed clearer than ever that he was just as ignorant as she to the complications their entanglement would bring.

It wouldn’t do to give her a tour with a hard on.

He let the water pour over his body until he could no longer smell the ghost of her on his skin, then he took himself in hand. He stroked his cock softly at first, letting his fingertips play over the head on each pump. As he grew more accustomed to the sensation, he began to move more roughly, his grip tighter and his rhythm faster.

Despite his best intentions, the image of Belle slipped into his mind. That day in the shop, when he’d stood behind her and explored her body, wondering whether or not to push the limits of decency in his quest to deter her from making a deal. He remembered too keenly the curve of her buttocks and the gentle swell of her breasts. He recalled in perfect clarity how soft the skin of her neck was beneath his calloused fingertips. The fullness of her lip.

He imagined himself once more buried between her thighs, but this time with a different intention. He’d tease her entrance with his tongue, flicking up occasionally to circle her clit. He’d keep his hands on her hips to mind their rocking as she mewled, begging him for release. He imagined how his name, his first name, would sound rolling off her tongue and, just like that, he came, splattering the dark tile with white stripes.

He cleaned up and turned the water off. He hadn’t actually managed to clean himself, his hair hanging wet around his face, but it would have to do. He dried himself with a towel and dressed in new clothes, choosing to forgo the formalities like a jacket and tie.

He arrived back at her door precisely when he meant to.

She opened it with a weak smile. “Hello again.”

“Hello.”

With a small laugh, she reached up and touched his hair. The water had given it a sort of wave. She ran a section through her fingers, then pulled her hand away suddenly, blushing a deep crimson. “Sorry.”

Deciding not to say anything, he cleared his throat. “This way, please.” Offering her his arm, he led her to the intersection of the hallways. “Your room is behind us, of course, and at the end of this hallway is my suite. Down there,” he gestured, pointing to the left, “is mostly empty rooms for guests. You’re welcome to explore at your leisure.” He started back the way Belle had come. “Now I’m going to point out the library, but I really insist you wait until after lunch to explore it. Deal?”

Belle sighed with longing. “Oh, fine.”

“It’s through those double doors. I think you’ll find it more than suitable.”

They had returned to the top of the stairs. Continuing along he pointed out several studies and reading rooms, as well as a lounge with a huge television and what Belle could only assume was every movie ever made. She would not want for entertainment.

On the ground floor to their right was a ballroom, and finally, proceeding to the left, a massive dining room. “Through there is the kitchen. You’re more than welcome to it, but I prefer to take meals in here. What’s the point of pomp and circumstance if you don’t use it?”

He pulled out a chair for her. As if on cue, the woman entered with a tray of food. Mr. Gold took his seat at the head of the table, with Belle directly to his left, and she placed before him a wine glass. It was too thick to be wine, though, and the wrong shade of red. Before Belle she placed a sandwich that could have come from a gourmet restaurant; it smelled incredible and there were at least two things in it Belle couldn’t name. She also received a side salad and a glass of iced tea.

“Thank you. I still didn’t catch your name.”

The woman again said nothing, retreating to the kitchen. Gold smiled.

“That’s Mrs. Potts. Delightful woman. She’s the most antisocial person I’ve ever met.”

“Besides yourself?”

“More so, as a matter of fact. Please, eat. I shall not be accused of starving my prisoners.”

“I’m not a prisoner,” Belle said. Taking a bite of her sandwich, she moaned in joy. “Oh, this is delicious!”

“I’ll pass along your compliments.”

They ate (and drank) in companionable silence for a while, until Belle was sure she would burst with another bite. Pushing her plate away, she leaned back in the chair.

“It’s just about time for…” Gold trailed off.

“We need a name for it. Preferably one that doesn’t make me feel like a prize sow.”

“Prize? How presumptuous.”

It took Belle a moment to register the joke, then she rolled her eyes. “Shall we, um, go back to my bedroom?”

“If that’s where you’re most comfortable.”

She stood and he followed. She was very proud of the fact that she remembered the way to her room without help, and that eased the tension building in her gut.

She slipped once more out of her underwear, kicked off her heels, and lay back on the bed. Gold hovered in the doorway until she nodded at him. Climbing up on the bed, he gently spread her legs and lay between them.

“Are you… comfortable?”

“As much as I can be.”

“Alright. I hope that, with time, this becomes less awkward.” He closed the gap between them, tongue reaching out to collect the first taste of blood.

Belle sucked in a breath. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the feeling of him lapping at her, slipping into every nook and cranny along her vulva. It left her feeling unsettled, with a pressure in her gut that was too close to desire.

He finished more quickly than the last time, and again wiped his mouth on a handkerchief.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You might not get an answer,” he said, sliding the cloth back into his pocket.

“I still don’t understand what you get from this deal. You obviously don’t need my blood to survive because you’ve got enough to have it served to you in a wine glass. So why am I here?”

His countenance turned cold.

“You’re quite fond of looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

She scowled. “I wouldn’t call this a gift.”

“Call it whatever you like. You need me, Ms. French, so I’d advise you to mind your tongue. I’ll be back later to collect my next payment.”

“So I’m just to twiddle my thumbs until you show up again, is that it?”

“Twiddle your toes, for all I care. But yes, you are at my disposal. It’s in the contract. Should I get hungry for a midnight snack, you will spread your legs and allow me to take one. Is that clear?”

Belle’s nostrils flared. “Crystal.” Any trace of desire was gone now, replaced by fury.

He stormed out of her room, slamming the door behind him. He marched to his study and the nearest bottle of alcohol. He wasn’t sure if it was gin or vodka as he took a swig.

“Damn that girl,” he muttered, sitting behind his desk. He pushed papers around, looking for a project to distract him. He could still taste her, though, and as long as he could taste her he would never be able to work. He took a mouthful of whatever-it-was and swilled it around in his mouth like Listerine. He’d drown out the taste and then work until he could smell her again, the scent of blood wafting through his home pungent enough to be picked up by his vampire senses. It was the only thing to do.


	6. Chapter 6

It was hardly two hours later when Gold came to find her again. Belle had gone to explore the library; it was truly magnificent, with floor to ceiling windows and more books than one person could read in a lifetime! The furniture, although dark in color, was soft and plush as a dream. It was here he found her, curled up with _Moby Dick_.

“Making yourself at home with the first editions, I see.”

“Something about this house inspired me to read about the fragility of the male ego. I wonder what it was…”

He scowled. “Remove your underwear, please.”

“Didn’t bother to put them back on,” she said, adjusting her position on the couch. She threw one leg over the back and braced the other on the coffee table.

Gold sighed. “Do you enjoy being difficult?”

“Immensely.”

She didn’t take her eyes off the book as he crouched between her legs. “I’m going to put my hands on you now,” he said. He took her hips and tugged, pulling her several inches further down on the sofa.

“Hey!”

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” He set to work, moving his tongue more than was strictly necessary in his pursuit to capture the blood from her vulva. As a result of his animated ministrations, Belle was more vocal than she had been all day, gasping and hissing as her hips bucked involuntarily. He took his time, too, drawing out the process as a sort of punishment. But when his nose bumped her clit, she swore, and he pulled away. “I am sorry for that one.”

“Is this some kind of turn-on for you? Keeping women hostage for their blood, and then pissing them off as often as possible?”

“It must be, or I would have ended our arrangement an hour ago. I’m done,” he said, standing and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. She sat up, crossing her legs. He turned to go, but stopped in the doorway. “You must be a pitifully slow reader.”

“Excuse me?”

“You haven’t turned a single page in the last ten minutes. Your dinner will be served at six. Don’t be late.”  

Once the doors closed behind him, he smirked.

The only thing that prevented Belle from hurling the book across the room was the knowledge that it was a first edition. She settled for kicking the coffee table. In truth, the tension from their three encounters was becoming overwhelming and if she didn’t masturbate soon, she might come during one of their little sessions. That was a humiliation she could not bear.

Reluctantly, she slid down the couch into a more comfortable position, her knees bent and open. She took a few slow, even breaths, circling her clit with her middle finger. She drew it up and down between her folds, tracing herself from top to bottom. She pressed it into herself a few times before rubbing at her clit, repeating the pattern until it was time to add a second finger.

Her mind wandered to the one person she didn’t want it to: Mr. Gold.

She imagined his stupid face, smug with the knowledge that he had won the last round of whatever sick little game they were playing. His absurdly long canine teeth, with just a hint of blood on them. How his tongue would dart out to lick them clean, the same way he cleaned every inch of her. She imagined his stupid greying hair and how it framed his face, curling into waves. It had been so soft beneath her fingers; she imagined grabbing a handful and pulling his face to hers, their lips crashing together. How, in their passion, his teeth would scrape over her lips and might even draw blood…

With a cry of surprise, Belle came.

She picked herself up off the couch and waked gingerly back to her room, and the accompanying bath. She cleaned herself up, losing a little blood in the process. She wondered if he might somehow know and be displeased. _Fuck him_ , she thought. With a triumphant grin, she flopped down onto her bed. She still had some of King Lear to read, and there were a couple more hours until dinner. Hopefully he would leave her in peace until then, her flow slow enough not to require his presence.

He did not join her for the evening meal, but met her in the hall on the way back to her rooms. He had a smile that she did not like, as though he were privy to her darkest secrets.

“What are you so happy about?” she asked as they reached their destination.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“Didn’t you wonder, Dearie, how I know when to come and collect?”

Belle furrowed her brow, climbing onto the bed. “Spidey senses?”

“Smell. My sense of smell is especially keen. So when enough blood drips out of that cunt of yours, I know to come find you.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He climbed up onto the bed and knelt between her knees.

“My sense of smell is not limited to blood, Dearie. I’m glad that you’ve found a way to enjoy yourself.”

She absolutely snarled. Something about this man brought out the Fury in her. “Enjoy is hardly the word I’d use. And how dare you mock me? You know perfectly well that it isn’t a result of your _prowess,_ or lack thereof.”

He leaned forward then, over her body, his hands just inches from her sides. “Then tell me: what were you thinking about as you brought yourself off in my house?”

The blood was draining from her face, so she covered it with a huff. “Like I’d ever tell you.”

“Then my imagination will have to suffice. Now Dearie, open up,” he said, moving into his customary position. Belle folded her arms across her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. With every stroke of his tongue she imagined a horrid image, each more grotesque than the one before. Dead kittens. Zombie kittens. Mangled limbs scattered across a busy freeway. Skin devoured by flesh-eating viruses. Angler fish.

She had nearly exhausted her supply of disgusting things to think about when he finished, again wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Delicious as always. I’ll likely be back before you’ve gone to sleep.”

“If not I’m sure you’ll wake me up.” Belle rolled away, picking up her book again. She heard him leave, but refused to watch.


	7. Chapter 7

That Wednesday afternoon he found Belle on the floor of the library, reading in a patch of sun. No kind words had passed between them since Monday, the librarian doing her best to ignore him completely.

“Kindly remove your shorts.”

“Do it yourself.”

Gold sighed, kneeling behind her. He was reaching for the hem of the abominable pink things when something at her side caught his eyes.

“Haven’t you finished _King Lear_ yet?”

It was Belle’s turn to sigh. She rolled onto her back, still holding whatever book she’d had her nose buried in. “I can’t bring myself to finish it. It’s too sad.”

“How so?”

“Lear and Cordelia! All they want is to be together, to share the bond of father-daughter love until he dies. Lear learns the error of his ways and embraces her, but it’s too late. It’s a tragedy!”

“Of course it’s a tragedy. It’s Shakespeare.”

She huffed. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Why not? Do you think me incapable of love?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why wouldn’t I understand?”

Belle paused. “I don’t know, it just seems… like something out of your depth.”

Gold went silent. Belle looked down at him. He seemed contemplative. She wriggled out of her shorts and underwear, but not even the smell of blood roused him.

“Mr. Gold?”

“Hmm? Oh, right.” He lowered his head, but stilled. “You know, I’m not feeling particularly bloodthirsty at the moment. Why don’t you just… go to the restroom and wipe yourself up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said, standing.

“Will I see you later?”

“Perhaps.”

Belle stopped him when he reached the doorway. “Mr. Gold? I’m sorry if I offended you.”

He looked her in the eye for the first time that day. For a moment he just looked, searching for the right words. Eventually, he found them.

“I cannot heave my heart into my mouth.”

Belle recognized the quote from Act I. He left.

It was hours before she sought him out, knocking on the door to his study. She was definitely not worried. He called out for her to enter.

“Can I help you Ms. French?”

“I’m feeling… uncomfortable.”

“In what way?”

“Well, physically,” she said, gesturing to her shorts. A spot of blood was visible, having seeped through. “But also about earlier. I’m afraid I hurt you without intending to, which is very different from our verbal sparring.”

He gave a hollow laugh, a weak grin. “You didn’t hurt me. You just… reminded me of a long-buried memory. And some new ones, as well.”

“In any case, I’m sorry to have caused you distress.”

“Think nothing of it. Come, sit here. Let’s take care of the other problem.” He patted his desk. Pulling off her shorts, Belle perched on the edge of the wood. “Oh dear, I have neglected you. May I?”

“Please.”

Belle gripped the wood, trying very hard to maintain steady breathing while he worked at her cunt. Eventually she was clean, and her lungs heaved a sigh of relief. She pulled her clothes back on. He dabbed his mouth with the handkerchief.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Is it the same one you keep asking me?”

“No.”

“Then go ahead.”

“What’s your first name?”

Gold laughed then, a real one. He followed it with a titter, waving a finger in her face. “Trying to learn the monster’s secrets, hmm?”

Belle felt herself smile, her nose wrinkling. “I take it you aren’t going to tell me.”

“You’d have to be a very, _very_ good girl to earn that, I’m afraid.”

Belle shrugged, heading for the door. She paused. “Mr. Gold?”

“Yes, Dearie?”

“You’re not a monster.”

She watched as a slow, small grin came over his face, much more genuine than the one he’d worn moments before.

“But that doesn’t mean I like you.” She winked, and left him to his solitude.

“Of course not,” he whispered.

She didn’t see him until the following morning. He woke her just long enough to give consent before she fell back asleep, apparently unmoved by his ministrations. It was nearly noon when she sought him out again, book in hand.

“Come in.”

“Can I read in here?”

“There are literally dozens of other rooms in this house. Why do you want to be in here?”

Belle bit her lower lip. She extended the silence as long as possible, but he didn’t give in. With a sigh, she said, “I’m lonely. I’d rather be with you than with no one at all.”

“High praise. Fine, take a seat.”

She curled up in one of the leather armchairs that sat before his desk. There was silence but for the turning of pages and rustle of documents. About thirty minutes passed this way before he put down his pen with a sigh.

“What are you reading, anyway? Not _Lear_.”

“It’s a biography of a 19th century botanist, Archibald Hummington.”

“That was in my library?”

“Mhmm.”

“And you thought it sounded like a good time?”

“I have a variety of interests, Mr. Gold.” She looked up at him, nodding to his desk. “What are you pretending to work on?”

“Pretending?”

“All you’ve done for the last half hour is shuffle papers and doodle in the margins.”

“I… that’s…” He scoffed as if to deny it, but then thought better. “The smell of blood was distracting me. It’s probably time.” He stood, walking around the desk and kneeling before her.

She uncurled, lifting the hem of her dress and spreading her legs. “This period has been unusually light. Probably better that way. For you I mean.”

“How so?”

She gasped as his mouth touched her. “Less m-messy. Fewer feedings. Fewer stains on your furniture.”

He shrugged. “’S just furniture.”

“Still. I’d h-hate to leave red splashes all over this castle of yours.”

“Don’t want to mark your territory?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He just shrugged. She opened her mouth to ask again, but was distracted by his tongue circling her entrance. “Sweet Jesus,” she hissed.

He mumbled an apology against her cunt, but the vibrations made her back arch.

“D-don’t speak! Please,” she begged.

He finished as quickly as he could and stood. “You know, a lesser man might be offended.”

“Oh please,” she rolled her eyes. “You love torturing me.”

He gave a wolfish grin. “Maybe. I like seeing you squirm.”

Belle felt a blush surge across her chest. She cleared her throat and reached for her book.

“Let’s take a walk, Dearie.”

“A walk? A walk where?”

“To Hummington’s garden.”

He offered his arm, and she took it.

Behind the house was a magnificent grounds, obviously well-maintained, though Belle had never seen anyone out working in it. She’d made it as far as the rose bushes on Tuesday.

He walked her a good deal farther than that, until they reached a wall of rhododendron nearly ten feet high. Buried beneath the leaves was an iron gate, which he unlocked with a key from his pocket.

“Hummington worked this estate for many years. This little garden was his pet project.”

Belle turned in circles, admiring the open space. A ring of exotic plants lined a small patio; many of the blooms were bright colors, turquoise and violet. She gaped.

“It remains exactly as he left it.”

“It’s remarkable.”

“Some of these plants are cross-breeds he designed, totally unique in the world.”

“And you keep them locked in here? Why not share them?”

“Why should I?”

She laughed. “You have a bit of the dragon in you, Mr. Gold. Treasures like these should not be hoarded.”

“I fail to see why not.”

Belle just rolled her eyes. Fingering an aqua bloom, she said, “I can’t believe these plants have survived for so long. Over a hundred seasons!”

“A bit of magic goes a long way.”

She shot him a look, but was immediately drawn back in by the garden. He watched her, riveted by her excitement. Gold imagined what it would be like to step close behind her, wrap an arm around her waist, and hold her flush to his body; to smell her and the flowers in a single, tandem breath.

She would never allow it.

Instead he sat on one of the small stone benches and waited. Eventually she joined him. He watched her chest as she took a deep breath.

Placing her hand over one of his, she smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

For a moment they just sat, until he saw the purplish hue creeping over her skin and realized her teeth were chattering.

“My God, it must be forty degrees and you’re in a dress. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I guess I got distracted.”

“Good lord,” he said, shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. “You’re going to catch your death. Come on, back to the house this instant.”

He dragged her down the path with an arm about her, rubbing through the jacket.

“Did you mean it? About the magic? I don’t see how else your garden could bloom in winter.”

“If you survive the night, I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re freezing. You are going to stand in front of the fire in the kitchen while I draw you a warm bath. Understand?”

“Protecting your investment?”

“Avoiding a manslaughter charge. Come,” he said, opening the door to the kitchen and ushering her in. He grabbed a chair and set it down roughly before the flames. “Sit here. I’ll be right back.”

He raced up to her rooms and filled the tub, checking the temperature on his arm. Fat lot of good that did him; he hadn’t even noticed it was fucking winter.

When he collected Belle, she insisted on stopping by his study for her book. He grumbled, but allowed it. He ushered her into the bathroom.

“Don’t dawdle, Dearie.”

“I’m not getting in with you here!”

“Well I’m not leaving you alone. You’d be dead before you even realized the hypothermia set in.”

“That’s a bit dramatic.”

“I’ll get Mrs. Potts.”

“No!” Belle sighed. “I’d rather you than her. But no peeking!”

She shoved the book at his chest. He held it with one hand, the other covering his eyes. “Right. It’s not as if I’ve been licking your pussy for the last four days. Oh wait…”

She splashed him.

“There are parts of me you haven’t seen, and I’d like to keep it that way. Okay, you can look.”

Lowering his hand, he saw that she had wrapped her arms around her chest and brought her knees up.

“I prefer my baths hotter, for future reference.”

“One doesn’t treat frostbite with hot water.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake! My toes aren’t falling off, Mr. Gold.”

“Not yet anyway. Now, Dearie,” he asked, grinning mischievously, “how do you plan to read with your arms like that?”

“You’re going to read to me.”

“The hell I am.”

“If you’re going to sit here, you’re going to read. It’s only fair.”

“I hardly think-”

“You’ve got me naked in a bath. Open the fucking book.”

He started and smiled at her vulgarity. “Alright, alright.” Sitting on the toilet, he flipped open to her bookmark. “‘The Corpulous Amarallis is distinguishable by its-’”

“No, I’ve read that bit. Skip down.”

“… ‘I crushed the leaves to make a tea, which I unfortunately served to the vicar’s grandmother’… Oh my.”

“Please, keep going.”


	8. Chapter 8

“The well has run dry, Dearie. You’re done for the month.”

Belle didn’t know whether she was happy, relieved, or glum. Probably a bit of all three.

“Then I’ll call you in about three weeks. I don’t suppose I’ll see you before that.”

“No, I don’t see why you should.” Gold slipped his jacket back on. Belle grabbed her suitcase from the corner and began gathering up her clothes. “There’s no rush, Dearie. You aren’t being evicted.”

“I had better get back to my father. To my life.”

“Alright. Would you like me to walk you out?”

“No, I can find the way.”

“Your money will be in your account by the end of the day.” There was a pause. “Goodbye, then.”

“Goodbye,” Belle said, looking up from her packing. They made eye contact, and he nodded, excusing himself from the room.

She was ready to go almost immediately. Winding her way through the empty halls, she began to wish he’d stayed to walk her out, after all. There was an awkwardness as she moved through the building, bag in hand, a desolation that mocked her with echoed footsteps.

The door closed heavily behind her. She threw her bag in her car, and drove home.

It was almost as if she’d never left.

“Papa, I’m back!”

He grumbled, turning over on the couch. Except for the stubble on his face, nearly long enough to be called a beard, he looked no different than he had Monday morning, and it was now Friday night. There were, of course, more bottles strewn across the room.

“You been gone, Bluebell? Gone where?”

She sighed. “Forget about it. I’ll make us some dinner, hmm?”

“Yeah yeah, pork’n’beans. Love beans…” With a sleepy murmur, he fell back asleep.

Belle stepped around the clutter, winding her way to the kitchen. Naturally, she found it wrecked beyond belief. He had destroyed it, cans all around the room, most bent and some broken. The silverware too was spread across the floor, and all the cabinets were hanging open. She bit her lip, holding back tears.

It took her the better part of an hour to clean it all up. There was one can still intact. She opened it and poured it into a pot, turning on the stove. Leaning against the counter, wooden spoon in hand, she stirred the concoction.

She didn’t work again until Sunday, which meant she could spend tomorrow however she liked. The idea of staying in the house all day was not a pleasant one. Perhaps she’d take a walk, use her newfound pocket money to buy a coffee, or some actual groceries. One could not survive on canned food.

Perhaps she’d even buy herself a nice pair of underwear as a treat. Something black and lacy. Something Mr. Gold would like.

“Shit!” she cried, pulling her hand back from the burner and dropping the spoon. She turned to the sink and cranked up the cold water, rinsing her burned fingers.

Where that thought had come from she could not, would not say. Shaking her head, she rubbed her hand until the sting had faded. She was just clumsy.

“Here you go, Papa, pork’n’beans. Sit up now.” Belle coaxed her father upright, handing him the bowl and fork. “We should probably get you into bed soon, Papa.”

“Nah, nah I’ve been sleepin’ all day. I’m gonna get showered up and go out.”

“Papa, please. Let’s rent a movie or something. I could read to you!”

“Don’t tell me what to do, girl!” He growled, shoveling his dinner into his mouth. “I didn’t raise you so you could keep me prisoner in my own home!”

Belle stepped away. How he could maintain the constant state of inebriation was beyond her, but she would have no part of it. “Fine. Do whatever you like.” She grabbed her bag and headed to her room at the top of the stairs. He continued to grumble and mutter in the living room below.

The next morning Belle slept in, not bothering to climb out of bed until 10. She wiped her eyes, a little sore from the night’s crying, and slipped into some leggings and a sweater. A walk into town would do her wonders in the crisp morning air.

She made her way to Granny’s and took her favorite stool at the counter.

“Mornin’ Belle. Coffee or cocoa?”

“Coffee please, Ruby. With a dollop of whipped cream.”

“For you, I think I can swing that.” The brunette gave her a wink before disappearing into the kitchen. She came back with a tall Styrofoam cup, a mountain of cream sitting primly on top. “Haven’t seen you in ages, Belle. Whatcha been up to?”

“Work, mostly.”

Astrid appeared at her elbow, smiling in her gentle way. She hopped up onto a stool. “Not this week. Belle’s been off doing who knows what and left me to cover the library.”

“What? Did you take a vacation or something?”

“No,” Belle said, shooting a look at her coworker before turning back to Ruby. “It’s a second job.”

“Doing what?”

“Come on Ruby, work is work,” Belle said, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Oh hell no, that’s some suspicious double-talk. What are you doing? Or more importantly, who are you doing it for?”

When Belle didn’t answer, Astrid spoke up again. “I heard that your car was outside Gold’s manor all week. But that’s just a rumor.”

She might as well have given a bone to a junkyard dog, the way Ruby’s eyes lit up. “GOLD? As in…? Belle, no!”

“Ruby…”

“He’s a monster, Belle! Worse, he’s a legend. A ghost story. He’s the boogeyman that sleeps underneath this town. What does he have you doing?” When she didn’t respond, Ruby kept going, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper. “Is he making you have sex with him?”

“God, no! No, Ruby, of course not. He would never do that.”

“Of course he would-”

“No, he wouldn’t.” She didn’t want to tell the truth, but Belle knew she could not let Ruby’s mind continue to wander. “I’m reorganizing his library for him. It’s more convenient if I go for a couple days at a time, and I sleep in a spare bedroom. It’s like a dream job, okay, so please don’t make it into a big deal. And please don’t tell anyone,” she said, shooting another meaningful look at Astrid. The woman slouched down in her seat.

Ruby shifted her weight, crossing her arms. “Riddle me this, Belle: if it’s not a big deal, then why don’t you want anyone to know?” Someone across the room waved, and Ruby walked away to deal with it.

Belle looked at Astrid, who shrugged her shoulders. “You have to admit, she’s got a point.”

“And I’ve got a right to privacy.”

Belle put the money for the coffee on the table and picked up the cup, the bell chiming as she left the diner. Belle perched on one of the tables outside, her eyes drawn up to the stony manor that overlooked the town. She felt the chill of the air, just about to turn February, and pulled down the sleeves of her sweater.

She smirked, mind being inevitably drawn back to him. He’d have a few strong words about sitting outside on a day like this. She enjoyed the thought that he’d be unhappy with her choices. When she finished the coffee she tossed the cup, licking the last traces of cream from her lips. She wandered down main street, not yet ready to go home but not really sure where she was going. The idea of new underwear popped back into her head.

She did want to buy herself something nice, and there were few treats as rewarding as lingerie. It had the remarkable ability to boost one’s self esteem and, given the nature of her new ‘job’, it seemed particularly fitting.

She stepped into Godmother’s, Storybrooke’s only boutique for such things, and set to work. She loved to run her fingers over all the different textures, her eyes caught by the vast array of colors and cuts. She did select a pair made of black lace, in a cheeky cut that would be very flattering from any angle, as well as a teal pair in a bikini cut with little white bows up and down the sides.

Finally, Belle dragged herself home.

The rest of the month passed in monotony; Belle’s busy work schedule combined with her caretaking duties left her exhausted, so that when she finally found a spot of blood in her underwear, she nearly cheered. She finished reshelving the fiction section then waved goodbye, not wanting to waste a precious moment.

He wasn’t in his shop, but the manservant, Dove, called up to the house. She was to go straight there, and Dove could collect a bag of clothes if she would furnish him with her house key.

“My father will be on the couch. He won’t wake if you’re quiet.”

The man nodded, and Belle retrieved her car.

Gold greeted her at the front door, the image of a gothic gentleman with a hand outstretched. She took it, inhaling sharply when he pressed the back of her hand to his lips.

“Welcome back, Ms. French.”

“May I take it from your greeting that you intend to be civil, Mr. Gold?”

“I always _intend_ to be civil, Ms. French. We shall have to let the week unfold as it will. Shall we?”

Belle sighed, entering the house. They waked in silence until they reached the second floor. “I’ll admit that this is not my favorite part of our deal.”

“You mean the actual deal? The purpose for your visits?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling at his dry sense of humor. “I’d rather read the end of _King Lear_.”

He smiled, too, opening the door to her borrowed bedchamber and ushering her in. She slipped out of her wool skirt and tights, momentarily regretting her choice of beige underwear as she pulled them off. Belle scooted back on the bed, opening her legs and taking deep breaths.

“I’m sorry this is still so uncomfortable for you,” he said, removing his jacket.

“You don’t enjoy it any more than I do.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“Call it intuition. And I have no right to complain, not really. I signed the contract.”

He nodded, moving into place between her legs.

No, she would never get used to the feeling of his tongue flicking between her folds. Her body was tense, her hands in fists at her sides. Having been apart for so long, her body seemed more sensitive to the gentle touches of his mouth and it reacted more strongly, her hips shunting. To her embarrassment, she cried out.

He pulled away from her for a moment. “May I put my hands on your hips to steady them?”

She nodded. But the pressure of his palms did not soothe her; it only intensified the heat burning in her gut. She bit her lip, determined not to cry out again. Perhaps she should have masturbated before coming here.

He was finished soon enough, and sitting on the edge of the bed. Belle closed her legs and covered herself with a pillow.

“You’ve hurt yourself,” he said, gesturing to her lip. His fingers lingered in the air, but he didn’t touch her. She touched her lower lip and sure enough, her teeth had worried it deeply enough to produce a smear of blood.

Capturing it on her finger, she paused, before extending her arm. “Better not let it go to waste.” He looked at her finger, then back to her. Slowly he leaned forward and opened his mouth, closing his lips over the digit up to her knuckle. He did not break eye contact. She felt his tongue swipe over the skin. Then he drew back.

Belle shuddered.

Gold stood to leave, grabbing his jacket.

“Wait. Will I… Will I see you at dinner?”

“I would be happy to join you. If you wish it.”

“I do.”

“Then I’ll see you at dinner. Until then, Ms. French.” He swept from the room.

Belle looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly four now, which meant she had about two hours to kill on her own. The library was tempting, of course, but she was not in the mood to read. Too much energy flowed through her veins. A soothing bath was in order.

When she emerged from the tub, her suitcase was on the bed, her clothes folded neatly and all appropriate toiletries included. She thought for a moment that perhaps she could befriend the behemoth Mr. Dove, until she saw them.

Her new black underwear.

Every other undergarment packed was consistent with what Belle would have selected herself, leading her to believe that Dove had a sister or a girlfriend in his life and understood the pains of menstruation. This meant, of course, that he had included her new underwear for their _other_ purpose.

“You little matchmaker,” she whispered, tossing the fabric on top of the dresser. “I’m not wearing them.”

She saw also that he had packed only warm, winter clothes; none of the dresses she preferred to allow Mr. Gold… access. It was probably at the master’s behest, should he like to take her for another stroll.

Sliding on a pair of jeans and a red sweater, Belle headed downstairs. She was early, but found dinner ready for her anyway. The silent Mrs. Potts served her a bowl of hot stew, and she started eating without waiting for her host.

She was nearly done by the time he arrived.

“I’m sorry to be late,” he said, taking a seat beside her.

“I’m sorry to be early.”

“It’s of no consequence. I’m not particularly hungry today; I shall make do with what comes of our deal. I am curious why you asked me to join you.”

“I’ve told you, it gets lonely here.”

“You’ve only just arrived.”

“May I ask an impertinent question?”

He cocked an eyebrow, aware of her pathetic attempt to change the subject, but let it go. “Is it the same one you always ask?”

“No.”

“Then by all means.”

“How many women have you been with?”

He looked at her in shock. “Impertinent indeed.”

“Sorry. Of course you don’t have to answer.”

“No, it seems… relevant, given our situation.” A hint of a smile graced his lips. “I was married long, long ago. And then after she died, there was another, perhaps a decade later. Although shorter than my marriage, it was infinitely more disastrous.”

“She died as well?”

“Oh no, she lived. That was the disastrous part.”

Belle laughed, clapping a hand to her mouth. “And how many… ‘women of the night’, shall we say?”

“Do you mean to ask how many one-night stands I’ve had, or how many prostitutes?”

“Both. Either.”

“None.”

“None? Just two women, in your entire, supernaturally long life?”

“They were enough.”

“Apparently.” Belle looked down to her empty bowl. She blushed.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“No no, Ms. French, I want to know what it was that just crossed your mind.”

“Another time, perhaps.”

He leaned across the table, searching her eyes. His grin was salacious. “I’m dying to know.”

She made the mistake of looking into his eyes. She was drawn in by his gaze, that enigmatic charisma that she had felt the first day in his shop; it made her want to tell him, made her want to fall into his grasp regardless of the consequences. She swallowed, tearing her eyes away.

“Only if you stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He pulled away, his brow furrowing.

“That… snake-charmer, thing that you do. Where I feel as though you’re going to devour me whole and I’m going to thank you for it.”

“I assure you, Ms. French, I’m not doing anything.”

She looked back up at him. There was still a vibration beneath her skin, but the desire to be lost had faded. “Aren’t vampires supposed to have hypnotic powers?”

“As far as I’m aware, that’s a legend.” He sat back, steepling his fingers. He seemed to ponder for a moment before he spoke again. “What you’re describing could be a side-effect of our bond. Blood magic is powerful stuff.”

“No, I felt it before we made the deal.”

He nodded involuntarily, as though she’d confirmed a suspicion.

“I want to know what _that_ thought was,” she said, watching his face.

“Then I’m afraid we must both be out of luck. Come,” he said, standing and offering her his hand. She took it, and allowed him to lead her from the room before he let go.

He followed her to her bedchamber where she collapsed face-first on the mattress.

“That is decidedly counter-productive.”

“I know. I just feel tired all of a sudden. Perhaps I’ll turn in exceptionally early.”

He sat the foot of the bed. There was a long pause.

“I could read to you.”

She rolled to look at him. “Really? You’d do that?”

He shrugged. “I could use a distraction.”

“From what?”

“I’m having… business trouble. Nothing you need worry about; I have fortune enough to pay you.”

“I assure you, that isn’t what worries me.” She bit her lip, quickly releasing it when she hit the spot that had bled earlier. “I’d love it if you’d read to me. I’ll change if you go get a book.”

He nodded and left the room. She stripped, sliding into a silky nightgown. It was her nicest, and her favorite, and she wondered for what nefarious purpose Dove had selected it. She climbed gingerly onto the bed again; this period was already becoming heavier than the last. She could feel the blood.

He returned. Setting the book on the nightstand, he made no comment as to her state but merely lowered himself to his purpose. Belle heard him gasp as he gathered her on his tongue, and she chanced a look down. His eyes were screwed shut.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine.”

It took nearly five minutes. He finished with a sigh, raking a hand through his hair. Belle sat up, drawing her knees together.

“You look pale, Mr. Gold.”

“I must be anemic. Are you getting enough iron?”

She laughed. “You know, you have the oddest sense of humor.”

“And yet you laugh at my jokes,” he said, moving around the bed to pick up the book. “What does that say about us?”

“That we’re an odd couple,” she replied, sliding beneath the covers. She moved over, and he sat beside her. “What have you brought?”

“ _Pride and Prejudice_. A safe bet.”

“Very safe. But a favorite, of course.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I met Jane Austen once?”

“No.”

“Good, I’m a terrible liar.” He cleared his throat, and began to read.

It was only an hour before he could smell her again, handing the book to her to read while he buried himself between her thighs. They took turns reading after that. Around 8 o’clock, Belle fell asleep.

He watched her for a short while, counting her slow breaths and listening to the little humming noises she made periodically. He longed to reach out and touch her cheek, to press his lips to her forehead, but he couldn’t. Not only did it violate the contract, but should she wake… it would destroy him.

So instead he took a ribbon from the drawer of the nightstand and slid it tenderly between the book pages. He placed a kiss to the front cover and left it on the pillow in his place. He had all intention of sneaking out, but when he opened the door, she stirred, eyes blinking open.

“Mister Gold,” she whispered, nearly slurring the words.

“Shh, go back to sleep, Belle.”

“At dinner… when I blushed…”

“Yes?”

“I thought… You’ve an awfully talented tongue… for someone who’s only been with two women.” He just stared at her, as she blushed, the smallest of smiles decorating her face. “Goodnight, Mr. Gold.”

He flushed the deepest shade of pink she’d ever seen on a vampire before he turned and left the room. Once safe outside, he smiled.

He found himself in his bedchamber a few minutes later. He ought to submerge himself in a cool bath, still the stirrings of his heart, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Even if she was dangerous, she made him feel more alive than he had in a century, and he wanted to hold onto that a little bit longer. So instead, he tucked himself into bed.

That night he dreamt of waltzing with her in the ballroom. She wore a gown as red as blood and the music kept speeding up, until they were racing round the room in frantic turns. When the dance became too fast Belle swooned, and he followed her to the ground. Shallow cuts appeared all over her body, until the blood seeping from her skin was indistinguishable from the dress she wore. She was swallowed up by it, and became a puddle of viscous crimson. And he wept.

Belle’s dreams were vastly different. She lay in a glass coffin, like a fairytale princess, and her father was weeping over her. Pressing her palms to the lid she pushed with all her might, but it didn’t budge. “No,” she cried, “I’m not dead! Let me out!” But her father just wept and wept. Gold appeared. In a single motion he threw off the top of the bier, reaching in to slide his arm around her. He pulled her to safety and she thanked him with a kiss. When she opened her eyes again, they were alone in a meadow. Gold lay her down in the grass, covering her body with his, and he kissed her until she was nearly numb with pleasure. She felt his naked chest beneath her fingertips and knew that she was also naked, but she didn’t care. She was his, completely.

Both woke with a start as the clocks chimed two.

Belle pushed herself up onto her elbows and groaned. She could feel the blood pooling uncomfortably. If she moved any more, she’d likely stain the bed, if she hadn’t already.

Wasn’t Gold supposed to be able to smell this sort of thing?

She rubbed her hands over her eyes and waited. She felt disoriented. Being in the dream had been wonderful; who could resist the feeling of total love and surrender? But in conscious fact, she did not want to belong to Gold.

Did she?

The whole situation was very confusing. He compelled her without meaning to, aroused her on accident, was both gentle and cruel depending on the situation, and was definitely, definitely too old for her. She could not deny her attraction to him physically, nor the attraction to his tenderness. But you could not have one half of a man just because you liked to split him up; Gold was as much the brash, blunt, insulting, smug asshole as he was the kind, generous man. Could she tolerate both sides and the volatility with which he switched between them?

Thinking of her parting words at their last encounter, she groaned again. She’d been _flirting._ Half-asleep, something had inspired her to bare her soul and spill her secret, making him blush like a schoolgirl. She’d all but admitted her feelings right there! Whatever did he think of her now?

As if on cue, he knocked.

“Come in.”

“I’m surprised to find you awake, Dearie.”

“I had a… a bad dream.”

“You too, hmm? Well, it’s just as well. Vampires in neighboring counties could smell you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry if I’ve… spilled.”

“I’ve told you before, I don’t care,” he said, peeling up the covers. “And you haven’t. Perhaps a bit on your nightgown, but Mrs. Potts can get blood out of anything.”

“I suppose she’s had practice.”

“Plenty,” he said. He groaned as he crawled into position, as though he were sore.

“Can the undead get backaches?”

He looked up at her with confusion. “Sorry?”

“You sound injured.”

“Oh. It’s an affliction of the mind, not the body. But old habits, you know.” He stopped speaking in order to accomplish the task for which he’d set forth. Belle squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately not to think of the dream. Given her confusion over her own feelings, now was not the time to be coming on his tongue.

He forgot to wipe his mouth when he finished, sitting sleepily on the edge of her bed. “Can I ask you what you were dreaming about, Belle?”

“As this old hermit I know likes to say, you might not get an answer.”

“I’m asking anyway.”

“Sure. I… I was dreaming about you.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. I was… I was dead.”

He looked at the ground.

“In a glass coffin, like Snow White.”

His eyes snapped up to her again.

“But I wasn’t really dead, and no one believed me. You came along and pulled me out. That’s it. That was my dream.”

His silence spoke volumes.

“Were you… were you dreaming about me, too?”

He nodded. “You were also dead in my dream, but I’m afraid it was the permanent kind.”

“It’s odd that we should have such similar dreams.”

“Yes… odd.”

He sat there for just a moment longer, his eyes lingering on her hand.

“Well I, I better be off. Back to my coffin.”

“Do you… you don’t. Not really.”

“No,” he said, smirking slightly. “Just a joke. Goodnight, Belle.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Gold.”


	9. Chapter 9

She was up early the following morning. She had a light breakfast in the kitchen and decided to take a quick walk, studying the way frost clung to the plants in his garden. She took a detour through the greenhouse and it was here that he found her.

The room was warm enough for her to slide down her sweats, perching on a stone bench. She studied the exotic blooms while he sucked at her, more voracious than usual. Without the veil of sleep dulling her senses, she couldn’t help but sigh and moan at his touch.

“I think it’s getting more intense,” she said as he stood, wiping his mouth.

“I would agree. Most counter-intuitive. Will you be alright for a few hours? I need to go to town to clear up some things. If I’m gone too long and you’re uncomfortable,” he said, gesturing vaguely to her vagina, “just clean it up yourself. I won’t cry over spilled blood.”

She nodded. He didn’t say anything else as he left, her eyes studying his back. Finishing her tour of the greenhouse, she decided to spend the day in the library.

He did not return until after nightfall. Belle chided herself for worrying –he was a grown man thrice over, at least- but it seemed that she had cause to be alarmed. She heard him enter from her nest in the library. The slamming of the door echoed, and was followed by his booming cries.

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT HIS INTENTIONS. I WILL PERSECUTE TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW, AND IF THAT ISN’T ENOUGH, _I WILL KILL HIM MYSELF!_ ”

She nearly trembled as he came up the stairs, but relaxed when she heard him go banging into his study. Ten, maybe twenty minutes went by before she uncurled and stood, blankets falling to the ground. Her feet made no sound on the floor.

She knocked quietly at his door and jumped when he yelled, “Enter!”

She could smell the whiskey before she could see him. The bottle was nearly empty, and he was taking a long drink straight from it. Steel filled her veins, made her stand up straight.

“I didn’t take you for much of a drinker, Mr. Gold.”

“Well you hardly know me, do you?” he spat, setting the bottle down onto his desk with a thunk. He moved around the desk like a lion on the prowl. He looked her up and down, whimpering in mock sympathy. “Have you been stewing in your juices all day, my pet? Let’s get those drawers off and find out.”

“No.” She did not raise her voice, but neither did she tremble.

“No? I beg your pardon?” He reached her, bending his face to hers, glaring. His eyes were bloodshot.

“I didn’t expect alcohol to have so much of an effect on you.”

“Slow metabolism,” he growled. His hand flexed like he wanted to grab her.

She felt her voice quaver, though her resolve did not. “I will not stay in your presence while you’re drunk. If that means you terminate our agreement, so be it,” she said, anger rising in her throat like bile, “but I find your behavior so repulsive that I would rather be thrown out onto the streets than spend another second with you!”

She turned on her heel and stormed off. She heard a savage roar and the smashing of glass behind her, but didn’t look.

Belle French did not deal with drunks, at least not those unrelated to her.

By the time she reached her rooms, tears were pouring out over her cheeks. She climbed onto the bed and hugged a pillow, letting the sobs rack her body. For the first time this month, she wondered if she was wrong about him.

The following morning, Belle found a note slipped under her door.

            _Ms. French,_

_Your presence is requested on the back lawn._

_R. Gold._

She nearly screamed in frustration, ripping the paper to shreds. Still, she forced her legs into a pair of pants and threw on her coat. She’d see what the devil wanted, and if she didn’t like it, he’d wind up in as many pieces as his little note. It would serve him right.

When she got outside, she saw something that truly surprised her.

A long bench had been set up across the grass, and on it, what appeared to be every last bottle of alcohol from the entire estate. Vodka, gin, whiskey, wine… even cooking sherry! A table had been set up close to the house, and it was by this that Mr. Gold stood demurely, hands folded in his lap.

“What’s all this?”

“Do you know how to shoot, Ms. French?”

“What, guns? No, of course not.”

“I’d like to teach you,” he said, opening a silver case that sat on the table. Inside were small handguns, safety goggles, and earmuffs.

“I don’t understand.”

He sighed as she reached the table, shifting. “I’m deeply sorry about yesterday. Please do not mistake my apology as a request for forgiveness; I’m not an idiot.”

She didn’t smile.

“I think it’s best we stay away from each other today, but first, I’d like to teach you how to shoot.”

She looked from him to the guns to the bottles and back again before nodding.

“Step over here,” he said, moving to the side. “Put on your safety equipment.”

She did, sliding on the goggles and letting the earmuffs hang around her neck.

“Now, if you’ll permit me to touch you…?”

She nodded again. Standing behind her, he reached his arms around either side of her petite frame. “Hold the gun, like so. There are seven rounds, and one in the chamber. We turn off the safety, like this,” the gun clicked, “and we use both eyes to aim. When you’re ready, aim for a bottle, and squeeze the trigger.” He released her, lifting her earmuffs up and setting them in place. He stayed close. As she fired the weapon, she realized it was to absorb the recoil. He exhaled as she smacked back into his chest.  

“Excellent. You nearly hit it. Try again.”

This time as she squeezed the trigger, she was rewarded with the shattering of glass. The rush of endorphins was exhilarating. He gave her little tips and advice as she destroyed his collection, showing her how to reload and pointing out the mother-of-pearl marbling on the handle. After a few more shooting sprees, only a couple of bottles remained.

“I think that should suffice. The rest you could chuck at a wall, if you like.”

She put the goggles back in their case. “No, I’ve released my anger. Most of it,” she said, looking up at him. “I agree that we should spend some time apart.”

“I’ll be in town again tomorrow morning, but I’ll return around noon. Is that enough time?”

“It should be, yes. Thank you for the lesson. It was very informative.”

“You’re welcome.”

Belle turned, trudging back into the house. She didn’t know what to make of him anymore.

People had the unfortunate habit of being more complicated than was helpful, especially if one wanted to get to know them. There were so many nooks and crannies, so many little pockets of emotion… She had seen the best of him and the worst of him. There was nothing to do but wait and see which side prevailed.

* * *

True to his word, she did not see him at all until the next day, and even then it was just a glimpse through the window. He had arrived home, but had not sought her out. Curious, and maybe a little bit bored, she decided to go looking for him. She found Dove and Mrs. Potts drinking a pot of tea in the kitchen; they suggested she look in the gym.

“There’s a gym?”

“You’ve got to go out the house and round to the side. It’s behind the garage.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Potts. Dove,” she said, opening the door and bracing herself against the chill. She walked around until she found what she was looking for, and stepped inside.

Belle’s jaw dropped.

A large punching bag was swaying heavily, the master of the house bludgeoning it with his wrapped fists. He was shirtless and facing away from her. She could see all the taut muscles of his back as he moved, dodging around the bag with surprising fleetness. Her eyes traveled over his arms and, when he saw her and turned, his chest.

“I… I…”

“Ms. French. Hello,” he said, panting lightly. He grabbed a black robe from a hook on the wall and covered himself, tying it off tightly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Why don’t I meet you back in your chamber?”

“Right, of course.” Belle bolted, gasping in the cold winter air. She went back through the kitchen, blushing and avoiding eye contact with the others, racing straight for her bedroom. Once there, she sat on her bed and breathed.

He joined her some minutes later.

“Hello again.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Gold. I didn’t mean to invade your private space like that.”

He held up a hand, sitting beside her on the bed. “Think nothing of it. I’d hardly call the little workout room a ‘private space’. Besides, if we’re dealing in apologies, mine is much larger.”

Belle looked at her hands.

“The way I acted towards you was… inexcusable, to say the least. In truth, I have a problem with alcohol. I’ve become complacent in my expectation that people will put up with my behavior because I pay them. But apparently I don’t pay you enough,” he said, lips curling up at the corner. “I desperately needed someone to help me see the truth. I’m just sorry that person was you.”

Belle teared up despite her best intentions.

“Thank you, Belle. I’m going to work very hard to make sure I don’t fall back into the habit. Hence the boxing,” he said, beginning to unwrap his hands. “It’s a good stress reliever.”

When she still didn’t speak, her breaths becoming more and more difficult, Gold leaned a little closer. “Are you alright my dear?”

“No,” she said, beginning to sob. “No I’m not.”

He fidgeted, wanting to pull her into his embrace but unable to. “Can I make it better? Please Belle, tell me what to do.”

She turned, scooting closer to him and leaning against his chest. Tentatively, he put an arm around her. She did not draw away, instead moving closer to him. She cried, keeping her hands firmly in her lap, and he rubbed her arm where his own was wrapped around her.

After a few minutes she finished crying, wiping her face roughly with the palm of her hand. Once her breathing steadied, she spoke.

“M-my father drinks.”

He sighed, pulling his arm away from her. “I know.”

“No matter how many times I asked him to quit, took him to rehab, poured it all down the sink… He never stops. Never.”

“I’m so sorry, darling.”

“I… I don’t know what else to do.”

“There isn’t anything you can do. If he won’t change, you can’t make him.”

She looked up at him then, blue eyes shining. “I don’t know if I can live with it forever, but I don’t think I can leave him, either.”

“You’re a very brave woman, Belle. When the time comes, you’ll make the right decision.”

She sighed, nodding and scooting away from him. “Right.” She cleared her throat. “It must be time for…”

“Sure, sure.”

She moved to lie back across the bed, pushing off her sweat pants and underwear. He lay between her legs, and Belle realized he was still wearing the robe. She could smell him, had been smelling him, and had not realized it. The aroma of his sweat was heady and intoxicating- perhaps a benefit of his condition.

“May I?”

“Yes.”

He placed a hand on the outside of her thigh, stroking gently as he pressed his mouth to her labia. His hands did calm her, this time, although the pressure of his tongue, as usual, drove her steadily up the hill. When he finished, he placed a kiss to the inside of her thigh before drawing himself up on his knees. She gasped.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I got carried away.”

Belle sat up, drawing her knees to her chest. “It seems we’re always apologizing to one another.”

“Indeed.”

“Can I ask you another impertinent question?”

“I don’t believe I could stop you.”

“When I saw you in the gym, you seemed… well, you couldn’t get to your robe fast enough.”

“…Is there a question coming?”

“I don’t understand how you can be shy. You’re… you!”

“I’m over a hundred, Belle. I’m old by any standard.”

They both blushed.

“Well, from what I saw, you don’t have anything to worry about. Besides, you’re on a first name basis with my most intimate parts, and until today I’d never seen more of you than your face and hands!”

“That’s quite how I prefer it.”

“I think turnabout is fair play.”

“Would you have me shirtless as I drink your blood?”

She flushed even darker, “That’s not quite what I meant.”

“Until later, Ms. French.”

“I’m not-” she called out, stopping as she pondered what, exactly, she wanted to say. He waited in the doorway for her to figure it out. “I’m not ready to forgive you yet. Yet… But… but I will be soon.”

He left without saying anything else.


	10. Chapter 10

He poked his head into the kitchen while she was eating. “I thought I’d offer my company.”

“Please, join me.”

“How come you don’t use the dining room?”

“It seems silly when it’s just me. It’s cozier in here.”

“I suppose it is.”

There was an awkward silence as she finished her meal.

“We’d better get you upstairs before those pants are ruined.”

“All right.”

“You can leave your laundry for Mrs. Potts, you know. Just set them in the hall and she’ll take care of it.”

“I’m sure I can manage.”

“I’m sure you could, but she’s the best.”

She followed him up to her room, going through the motions. “I suppose I have stained most of my underwear this week. I could wear pads…”

He stuck out his tongue. “Cotton fibers taste awful.”

She rolled her eyes. This time she pulled her knees up, keeping her legs open but bent. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

He looked at her from the end of the bed. “I’m not sure this position is wisest, dear.”

“Why not?”

“It’s easier for me, but it might also be more stimulating for you.”

She shrugged. “You’ll be quick, I’m sure.”

He swallowed, moving into position. His shoulders pressed against her thighs, and a tremor moved down her spine. Sure enough, the first swipe of his tongue had her reaching for the edge of the mattress. She grabbed up the green comforter in her fists.

“Oh God!”

He licked faster, his tongue sliding against her labia in a way that made her leg muscles tense, applying light pressure to the sides of his head.

“Fucking hell, fucking hell! Dead puppies, dead puppies…”

“Dead puppies?! Is that what you think about?”

“Please just finish!”

With one last slurp, he sat up. “I’m done. Dead puppies? Really?!”

“Does that offend your delicate sensibilities?”

“It hurts my pride a bit.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“There’s no shame in arousal, Belle.”

“There is shame in coming apart while a vampire I hardly know laps at my cunt. I’m not sure I could deal with that.”

He stood, straightening his shirt. “I’m sorry you feel that way. It’s not as though I’d interpret it as a declaration of love, you know. I’m not a pathetic fool.” He turned to go but something caught his eye. Belle looked up, and saw him holding her black lacy underwear between thumb and forefinger.

“Oh! No, I didn’t… Dove packed them in my bag, I wasn’t expecting-”

“Like I said. I’m not a fool.” He set them back down. “I’m a monster. Evening, Ms. French.”

He left before she could say anything else. With a groan, she dropped her head to the pillows. Why couldn’t they ever seem to get along? She was always offending him, and he was always insulting her, and together they made a ridiculous pair of socially awkward, stubborn, contradictory people.

He visited three more times before she fell asleep, each visit perfunctory and awkward. Silent. Once, as he left, she heard him scoff, “Dead puppies,” but that was it. Her books kept her company.

She allowed herself the opportunity to sleep in the next morning, and was awoken by a knock on her door around ten.

“C’min,” she mumbled.

“It’s time to clean you up.”

“Have at it,” she muttered, not feeling awake enough to move just yet. “Move me however you need to. You have my express permission.”

She didn’t open her eyes, but felt him sliding into position, lifting one of her legs and draping it over her shoulder. Something was… different, this time, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It wasn’t his hand, which was gently rubbing circles on the outside of her thigh; he often did that. It wasn’t his tongue or his mouth, they felt the same. No new piercings. But something was different, in the way her skin slid against his as he moved his body. Was he moving more? No, that wasn’t it…

It was only once he’d finished, sitting up, that she opened her eyes and saw what had changed.

“You’re shirtless!”

“Mhmm.”

“And you’re wearing pajamas!”

“Indeed.”

“Why?”

“Consider it an olive branch. An expression of trust. After all, you literally trust me with your life every time you come here, and as you astutely pointed out, there is an inherent vulnerability in your end of our deal. I thought I’d try to reciprocate that, in appropriate moderation.”

Belle opened her mouth as if to speak, but then bit her lip, choosing the words. He stood as if to leave, but she grabbed his hand.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

 “You don’t have to say anything.” He squeezed their interlocked fingers.

“Did you mean what you said? About… about quitting?”

“You mean the drink? Of course.”

“But how? How can you just decide to stop?”      

“Because I hurt you. Isn’t that enough?”

She was up in a flash, her arms thrown around his neck. Gold couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged, but it had to have been a long while. It took a moment for him to put his arms around her, distracted by the smell of her hair and the feel of her chest pressed to his.

She pulled away, wiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I must be emotional.”

His eyes shined, his lips drawn tight. He lifted a hand to her cheek but did not quite make contact. She pressed into his touch, sighing as he cupped her jaw. They stood together for a moment, before Gold broke the silence by clearing his throat.

“I’m uh, I’m headed to the kitchen. What would you like for breakfast?”

“You don’t mean to tell me you cook?”

“I do.”

“And you’re making me breakfast?”

“Sure, why not. It’s already been an unconventional sort of day, let’s set a record.”

“…Can I have waffles?”

“Your wish is my command.” He gave a deep bow, almost comically so, before leaving her to sniffle and wipe her eyes. She took a quick shower before dressing, leaving her spotted garments in the hall as he suggested. She could smell the waffles from the hall as she walked down to the kitchen.

Sure enough, there was a pile waiting for her as she entered. There was a small table in front of the fire, with two chairs and a freshly cut rose in a vase. She dropped into a chair, wasting no time in grabbing her fork and setting to work. He chuckled.

“Eager, Dearie? How do you know I didn’t poison them?”

“Someone once told me not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“True enough,” he said, grinning and ladling more batter into the iron.

Belle looked him up and down as she took a bite. He leaned over the counter, eyebrow raised.

“What are you looking at?”

“You, of course.” She smiled, as though hiding a secret.

“You’re a little liar,” he said, brogue thick.

“Maybe. Thank you for the waffles, Mr. Gold.”

“Glad to be of service.”

When the last waffle was done, he joined her at the table.

He read the paper while she ate, impressed with his culinary ability. When she couldn’t take another bite, she sat back in her chair and purred in contentment.

“I fear today may be your last day this month, Ms. French.”

“I fear you’re right.”

“Well, I’d encourage you to stay for a few more hours to be sure.”

She smiled. “You want me to stay?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, you didn’t. So, how shall we pass the time?”

He grinned, and Belle felt it in her knees.

They grabbed books from the library and retired to his bedroom, the first time Belle had been inside. His bed was bigger, he said, with more room for both of them, but Belle wondered if perhaps this was him being vulnerable again. They splayed out, him without a shirt and she without pants, reading side by side. Every so often he’d run his tongue along her vulva and send intense surges of pleasure down Belle’s spine, but as they’d both suspected, her period was quickly drawing to a close.

He ensured that she ate a hearty dinner before walking her to her car and carrying her bag.

“Oh, there is something I forgot to tell you.”

“What is it, Dearie?”

“Gossip has started spreading in town. If anyone asks, I’m rearranging your personal library.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“It was the only thing I could think of.”

“Works for me. Have a safe drive, Ms. French. And a pleasant three weeks until we meet again.” He held out his hand, and she placed her own in it. Once more he brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles, this time holding her gaze. Her skin tingled.

“I’ll see you soon, Mr. Gold.”

Belle climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled up. She hoped that the vague dizziness would dissipate as she drove away from him, but she also hoped it wouldn’t dissipate at all.

When she got home, she found her father tearing through the kitchen again.

“Papa! Papa, stop!”

“Belle? Belle where have you been? There’s no food, and I couldn’t find you, and I got so scared…” Moe hugged her, crushing her to his chest. He reeked of vomit and alcohol.

“It’s okay Papa, I’ve been at work. Come on, I’m gonna put you in the shower, then we’ll make dinner, alright?”

“Pork’n’beans, love?”

“Pork and beans.”


	11. Chapter 11

Belle couldn’t wait quite the whole month. She made it 12 days before she caved, popping into the pawnshop with two cups of tea during her lunch break. To her dismay, Gold was not there.

“I’m sorry, Miss French, he’s ill.”

“Call me Belle. Ill? I didn’t think he could be ill.”

Dove’s eyes flicked up to the ceiling as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“You’re lying, Mr. Dove.”

The man sighed. Belle handed him the cup of tea.

“He made me swear not to tell anyone, not even you, should you come a’callin.”

Belle leaned across the counter. “You’ve been in my underwear drawer, Mr. Dove. We don’t have secrets anymore.”

“I don’t like keepin it from ya, Miss Belle, honest.”

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll march up to that house right now. How much trouble would you be in then?”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh? I owe you one for that little trick you pulled.”

Dove groaned, sitting heavily on a stool. “Fine, but you musn’t let on that you know.”

“Promise.”

“He’s…he’s drying out. We’ve had a spat of trouble with a tenant, more trouble than I’ve ever seen in eight years. It’s drivin’ ‘im mad. Usually he just drinks and stews and don’t cause Mrs. Potts no trouble, but without the drinkin… he’s got a right sore temper. He won’t hurt her, no, don’t you worry about that. But he has broken some furniture… and he decided to burn down the derelict barn.”

Belle gasped. “This is my fault, I’m sorry.”

“No no, Miss! You misunderstand. He’s ill-tempered, but we’re all thankful to you for fixin’ him up.” The man smiled coyly. “Never in my eight years, or Mrs. Potts’ eighty, has he been so gentle. You… you help him, I think. Give him something to look forward to. Without that… he’s just… well, you know. He’s _less alive_.”

“About that,” Belle said, working up the courage to ask some invasive questions. “I don’t understand how his condition works.”

“None of us do, not completely. I think it’s a bit like a scale; sometimes he seems very animated, and others, he’s more... Like he’s lost dimension, slipped away from us. It manifests physically, too. When you’re about, there’s a bit of pink in his cheeks and he sleeps more. When you’re not, he looks a bit pale. So, it’s not all of one thing or the other. He’s… he’s somewhere in-between.”

“Thank you, Dove. I think I understand a bit better now. Can I ask… do you know why he made the deal with me? It hardly seems worth his time and effort.”

Dove grinned mischievously. “I’ve an idea, Miss Belle, but I also have a sneakin’ suspicion that you know the answer already.” He looked up out the front window, and his face immediately became stone cold. “Sorry Miss Belle, customer. You better be going.”

“Thanks Dove. Shall I look frightened?”

“Please do.”

Belle rushed from the shop, acting as though she were about to cry. As dishonest as Gold’s business practices may be, she wouldn’t let Dove’s work performance suffer.

After her little visit, there were only another 14 days until her period should arrive, and they proved to be the longest of her life. Her father spent no less than three nights in the drunk tank, tore through the shower curtain, threw up on the stairs, and, in one extraordinary fit of anguish, pissed himself on the living room floor. It seemed she spent all of her meager free time mopping up his bodily fluids and making excuses for his bad behavior.

So when Belle felt the first pang of a stomach cramp, she literally ran to the bathroom. Sure enough, it was starting. Belle called him, first, then finished the last half hour of her shift at the library with glee before racing home to pack. Her father was blubbering in his sleep on the couch, as usual, so she paid him no mind until it was time to leave.

“I’ll be back in a week, dad,” she said, shaking his shoulder.

He mumbled something at her, and she decided to take it a sign of understanding. She didn’t want to fight with him again.

Mr. Gold was waiting for her when she arrived. He extended a hand and she took it, thrilled to feel the little tingling in her palms she had so missed since her last visit.

“Ms. French. Always a pleasure.”

“Hello, Mr. Gold.”

“If you’ll indulge me, there’s something I’d like to show you,” he said, his voice a conspiratorial whisper.

“Gladly.”

He led her to the greenhouse, where a table had been erected and was covered in new growth. “I’ve been in want of good hobbies, recently, and recalling our visit to Mr. Hummington’s garden, I decided to pick up horticulture once more.”

“You’re a horticulturist?”

“I can be,” he said, smiling, just a hint of pride on his lips. “I managed to splice one of Hummington’s creations with a white rose. The result is most astounding.” He gently pulled the cloth off a covered plant, and Belle gasped.

“Oh my. They’re lovely!” The little bush was almost identical to that of ordinary roses, but each flower was much larger. The outer petals were all white, curling delicately as only a rose petal can, and in the center, a blue bud was beginning to bloom. The appearance was that of two separate flowers, growing together in a predictable, but unusual, way. One of them had bloomed fully, and she was thrilled to see that the stamen were a remarkable gold color, giving just a hint of a secret to the remarkable plant.

In her quest to touch the soft petals, Belle had let go of his hand. She took it up again now, drawing him over to her side.

“What do you call them?”

“Well, I was thinking of calling them…”

When he trailed off, she looked up at him expectantly.

“…Belle’s Eye. There’s an accuracy to it, as well as a sort of lyrical pun that I find quite amusing.” He didn’t look at her. She squeezed his hand.

“You’re naming it after me?”

“Maybe. Yes.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I love it.”

He cleared his throat, but she thought he seemed pleased. “Well we better, ah…”

“Right. To the bedroom, Mr. Gold?”

He assented.

When they arrived, Belle found the clothes she’d left last time, blood-free and primly folded. She moved them to the dresser and shimmied free from her underwear.

“I’m a much more practical packer than your Mr. Dove,” she said, lying back on the bed and lifting the hem of her pleated black skirt. “Pants are such a nuisance.”

“I think he’s rather _your_ Mr. Dove,” Gold said, removing his jacket. “He’s always asking after you. If he weren’t married, I might worry about the state of his heart.”

“Hardly. He’s kind but he doesn’t care for me in that way.”

Gold kneeled on the bed. “A mercy for both of us,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing. Now, you had a hypothesis that our encounters were becoming more and more intense.”

She nodded.

“Time to test that theory. There isn’t much here, so it’ll be quick. Ready?”

“Ready.”

He moved into position. The gentle breeze of his breath was already too much for her sensitive labia, and sure enough, as he slid his tongue over her entrance, her hips bucked into the air. Belle cried out. He grabbed her hips, pressing her back down into the bed, and growled, which sent another jolt up her spine.

She continued to whimper as long as his tongue moved against her, putting pressure where she desired it most. One of her fists had torn the fitted sheet up off the mattress, and the other was squeezing her breast, desperately seeking relief.

He finished, flying back away from her. Only his hands on the bedposts kept him from falling, his legs moving backward until he could stand on his own two feet. As Belle came back to rational thought she saw that he was having as much trouble catching his breath as she was.

“You… you never said…”

He covered his face with both hands, running them over his head and smoothing back his hair. “What? That touching you sets my blood on fire?” He moved slowly around to perch by her side, keeping a good foot between them. “No, I never said.”

“But why? How?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand it any more than you do.”

Belle scooted back against the headboard, curling her knees up. “I guess I assumed it was a vampire thing. Part of nature’s clever system, to make your prey more willing and pliable.”

He chuckled. “No. This is not a part of my condition. I’ll do some research, but…”

“But what?”

“I hardly know where to begin.”

They sat for a moment in mutual silence, still recovering. Belle could hear her heartbeat thundering, trying to break free of her chest.

“Look, Belle… We’ve discussed before that your… arousal… is a natural consequence of our encounters. But seeing you like this, near pain, is more difficult for me than I’d like to admit. If you like, and without any supposition on my part, I can…” He sighed, gathering strength. “I can bring you to climax while I’m down there.”

Belle flushed, looking down at her lap. “I won’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to ask. I’m offering. Of course I would never do it without your permission, but… if you ever want release...”

“Thank you. That’s a generous thought.”

He smirked. “Hardly. If I’m going to make you squirm, I’d rather do it on purpose.”

Belle sucked in a breath at his flirtation, looking up and making eye contact. She felt the tendrils of desire catching hold of her, imploring her to lean forward and capture his lips in a kiss. She blinked, pulled herself back. He stood and left without saying anything else, and Belle exhaled heavily.

She groaned and leaned forward, stretching over her bent knees. Slumping back, she sighed. “Oh, Bluebell… What on Earth have I gotten myself into?”


	12. Chapter 12

Gold threw himself into the cold bath with alacrity. He watched as the air bubbles slipped from his mouth and nose, gathering on the surface before disappearing. After a moment no more bubbles emerged, and he closed his eyes.

He’d said before that this girl was going to be the death of him, but with each month his certainty of that fact increased tenfold.

True, he’d tried to hide his feelings from her. Tried to remain composed as he drank from her dripping cunt, every drop like heaven on his tongue, every stroke of his fingers against her skin sending shocks through his wiry frame. Apparently he’d been doing well; but now she knew the truth. He couldn’t resist her if he tried, and they were both doomed for it.

His cock throbbed in its desire for attention. Reluctantly he grabbed it, pumping slowly. He’d had to do this too frequently… it was shameful. His traitorous body longed for Belle, and he couldn’t find release without imagining her soft, lithe body and all the things he could do to her.

He’d expected her to slap him when he suggested giving her oral pleasure during their little sessions. She couldn’t possibly want him to, unless her need really was as bad as it seemed, in which case he was sure she’d be picturing someone else as she came apart. She didn’t care for him. Any attraction was, in her mind, part of his supernatural charm. She’d all but said as much last month. He was an old man, extorting a pretty young woman for her blood and a bit of her time. He paid her. That was it.

But she hadn’t slapped him. She’d blushed. If she really was so afraid of coming accidentally while he worked on her, then perhaps she’d allow him to do it intentionally. It couldn’t be humiliating if both parties agreed, could it?

His cock twitched at the thought of her coming in his mouth. Oh God, that was more than he had any right to hope for. He’d had just a taste, and he knew what she smelled like because of her indulgence in his library; she was sweet, and musky, and if he drank in the aroma for too long, he might become permanently hard.

He moved his hand faster now, indulging in the perversity necessary to alleviate the problem. He imagined Belle on her knees. She’d have one hand between her legs and one around his cock, pulling the tip of him into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it. She wouldn’t moan like some porn star, no… It would be sweet, the way she pulled back to sigh when her fingers, stroking her clit, hit a spot that gave her pleasure. How she’d bite her lip, focused, hand moving steadily over the base of him. The way she’d smile before putting her mouth on him again, sliding back and forth, driving his cock over the velvet of her tongue.

He’d reach down and pull her to her feet, guiding her to straddle his lap. She’d slide down over his cock, her head thrown back, and he’d bury his face in the curve of her neck. His wonderful Belle would ride him, hands clutching him close, and when she came with a shout, body trembling, he’d allow himself to follow over the edge.

It was the image of his cock spurting inside her that finally made him come in the bathwater, pleasure and guilt both weighing heavily on his heart.

* * *

Their dynamic was awkward the rest of the day. He joined her for dinner and stilted conversation, Belle’s eyes drawn to his lips as he drank a glass full of blood. Then they retired to the library to read, each focused on their own book, except when their minds wandered and their eyes followed suit.

Around nine he cleared his throat and set down _The Grapes of Wrath._ “It’s time.”

Belle sighed. “Alright. I’m fairly tired.”

“Then let’s go to your chambers. You can fall right asleep once we’ve finished.”

“That’s unlikely, but I can try.”

They walked back to her room, Belle climbing onto the bed. She pushed herself into position, willing her unsteady nerves to cooperate. Gold took deep breaths, kneeling between her legs.

“Ready?”

“Not really. But I’m not going to get any more ready.”

“Maybe if we had a different kind of contact,” he said, getting into position and reaching up to place his hand beside hers. She took it, clasping it tightly.

“Worth a shot.” She widened her knees, and he lowered his mouth to her vulva.

She gasped as he started, sliding his tongue from her vagina up to her clit before curling it back into his mouth. Her body quaked with the effort of keeping it together, and from the way he clutched her fingers, he was equally tense. Each stroke lessened Belle’s resolve, pushing her closer and closer to orgasm. She cried out, her spare hand gripping the headboard of the bed, and right as she neared the peak – he finished.

This time he did fall off the bed in his haste to be away from her. They each lay in their spaces, breathing, burning, and it was long minutes before either moved. Gold stood. He raised a hand to his mouth, and Belle could see a smear of blood on his chin. He touched it, drawing some into his mouth of the tips of his fingers, and he sighed, shivering.

He left without saying a word.

Belle had never felt so tightly wound in her life. She knew the smart thing to do would be to touch herself -it wouldn’t take much effort to have the relief of an orgasm- but somehow, she couldn’t do it. Instead she settled on a warm bath to calm her screaming nerves.

She woke in the morning feeling absolutely exhausted. A quick glance in the mirror showed dark circles beneath her eyes, and the heavy feeling in her limbs was almost painful. When she arrived in the kitchen, she found Gold sitting at the table, sipping something from a mug. She didn’t really want to know what.

“You look terrible,” he muttered.

“You don’t look any better.”

“There’s coffee on.”

“Thanks.” Belle poured herself a cup before setting in beside him. She sighed, leaning back. “If it’s this bad now, imagine what December will be like.”

“I don’t think I’d last ‘til December. Besides, I’ve offered-”

“I know,” she said, more curtly than she wanted to. “It’s just… I feel bad. I mean, if you can hold it together without needing to jerk yourself off, I should be able to.”

He looked down at his mug. He stared too intently at the liquid.

“Wait… you don’t…”

“… Not every time.”

Belle’s jaw dropped. “But you never said!”

“Of course not! Hello again Belle, our last session was so intense I had to jack off in my shower. And how are you today?”

“But that’s… that makes it different! I didn’t know that you were… that…”

“It’s not exactly like eating a burger, Dearie. My arousal doesn’t come from direct stimulation like yours, but it’s still a very sexual act. My body responds in kind. Sometimes.”

“I had no idea,” she muttered, staring at the wall.

He waited several minutes before speaking again. “Does this mean… do you want me to…?”

“No. Well… no. No, I need to think about it.”

He nodded, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s probably time, by the way. If you’re up for it.”

She heaved a sigh, setting her coffee down. “I’m too tired to go back upstairs. Let’s just do it here.” She stood, moving to perch against the counter, hooking one knee over the edge.

He groaned. Kneeling at her feet, he eyed his red, glistening prize with reluctance. “We don’t have to, you know. We could take some time off.”

“We’ve got nine more months after this one, Mr. Gold.”

“Right. Here goes, then.”

Belle hissed, hips bucking as his mouth made contact. She gripped the marble countertop and tried to count to ten. She made it to four before crying out, her body reminding her that she had cheated it of orgasm the night before.

“Oh fuck!”

He dragged his tongue all the way up one side of her vulva and down the other, then reversed and went back. He teased her entrance, lapping there for a solid fifteen or twenty seconds before licking her from stem to stern once more. She could already tell that this period was heavier than those before it, and she had slept on her stomach, which often caused the blood to spread and get caught in a wider area than if she had slept firmly on her back. As such, he was spending more time than usual sucking at her labia, his tongue delving into all the sensitive little places that were usually spared. When he circled her clit, she lost it.

She sucked in a breath, and cried out, “Please, Mr. Gold!”

He pulled away, taking a few fast breaths of his own. “Please what?”

She didn’t, couldn’t respond.

“Please _what_ , Belle?”

“Please, please…” was all she could manage. After a moment he returned to her vagina, carefully sliding his tongue around her entrance. He moved slowly, in case she was in pain, but without specific instructions he wanted to finish as quickly as possible.

It wasn’t long before she cried out again. “Oh FUCK!... Please make me come!”

He growled, his body shuddering, and he redoubled his efforts. He moved with more courage, now, letting his mouth linger on her clit, alternating broad swipes of the tongue and giving it a good suck between his lips. Not wanting to starve any piece of her, he returned to her entrance and probed it, something he had not done before. He had circled it, yes, teased it even, but this time he pushed the muscle in as far as he could, letting the blood and juices coat him as he pumped, slipping it in and out.

Belle’s cries were long and blended into one another; she was so close! Once he’d cleaned her thoroughly, he gave her clit another long suck, letting it go with a slight pop, and then scraped his teeth across it.

“GOLD!” Belle screamed, her voice echoing around the kitchen as a powerful orgasm swept through her trembling body. Her hips rocked, her fingers squeezed the counter. Never before had she understood the “waves” of pleasure some women described, but now she did, as her whole body was consumed in fire, began to calm, and was swept up in the fire again.

Eventually she regained control of her breathing, blinking open her heavy eyes. Gold was standing between her legs, his arms fluttering at her sides as though he wanted to hold her, make sure she would stay upright, but was too afraid of violating the deal. His mouth glistened, but not with blood.

Slowly –so as not to spook him- Belle reached out and swiped her thumb across his chin, catching his lower lip in the process. He was breathing heavily too. She sucked her thumb into her mouth.

“You drank that too, did you?”

“Wouldn’t do to leave a mess for Mrs. Potts.”

Belle took his hands and he helped her off the counter, one arm shooting around her waist when her stiff legs gave out. He tenderly pulled on her skirt, protecting her modesty, as he led her from the kitchen.

“I’m taking you back up to your room. Is that alright?”

“I’m okay. I can make it.”

“Please, let me.” His tone was almost pleading, so she allowed him to continue to hold her as they journeyed to the second story.

He set her on the bed and she scooted back, letting her head rest on the mountain of pillows. He pulled up a blanket and tucked it round her.

“’M not goin’ back to sleep…”

“I think you are. I’ll see you later.”

“Gold?” She caught his hand as he turned to leave.

“Mmm?”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”


	13. Chapter 13

Gold released a shaky breath the moment her door closed behind him. He was nearly certain she had not noticed his own vile reaction to their session, her orgasm keeping her distracted. For this he was grateful, as he entered his own bathroom and began stripping off layers. His ejaculation had coated the hem of both his undershirt and dress shirt, all but ruined his underwear, but had mercifully missed his pants. He sat on the side of the bathtub and turned on the hot water.

He had not expected her to say his name.

Being able to bring her off filled desires that lurked deep within his soul and moved beyond his wildest dreams; never in a million years did he expect to receive a relief of his own. Belle was far too pure to be with someone like him… but if he could give her a moment of ecstasy, well, then he’d consider himself lucky to do it.

But surely, she’d be thinking of someone else. She’d imagine a boyfriend, or a lover, or an ex, or a crush, or the milkman or paperboy or a celebrity, for Christs’ sake! The sensations between her legs and the thoughts in her head didn’t need to have correlation, and he had sworn not to take it personally when someone else’s name fell from her lips in her moment of grace.

But she’d said his name, and he’d come in his pants like a schoolboy.

Her orgasm had so distracted her that he’d been able to have his own climax, clean her up, and be at face level before she opened her eyes. He’d walked her to her room like nothing had happened, and tucked her into bed, and she’d thanked him. _Thanked him_.

The bath was full and he dropped himself in.

Hot water did not clear his mind the way cold water did, but it made him feel clean. He stayed until it turned cold, anyway, and only when he could bear the submersion no longer did he climb out and dress in new clothes.

He decided to visit the greenhouse, pass the time with his plants. He was hard at work when Belle found him.

“Hello.”

“Good afternoon, Ms. French. I trust you are feeling rested.” He did not look up to greet her.

“Very.” She stepped to his side, her eyes moving from his face to the plant and back again. He still didn’t look at her. “What are you working on?”

“I’m splicing another of Hummington’s plants with a rhododendron.”

“Ah. I see.” She watched him for a moment, but when he didn’t speak again, she bit her lip. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not.”

“It’s just… you seem… distant.”

“I wish to respect your boundaries. That is all.”

Belle scowled, folding her arms across her chest. “You’ve been doing that since I got here.” She stepped away, heading for the door but pausing in the center of the room. “I can see that what happened earlier has shaken you. I won’t ask you to do it again.”

He sighed, dropping his tools. “Belle, wait.” He followed, standing behind her. “I’m sorry for being callous. I thought… I thought you might wish to distance yourself from me. Or that you might wish distance _from_ me.”

She turned to face him. Though she be but little, and barefoot, she be fierce. “And so you made up my mind, is that it? I’ve quite enjoyed getting to know you, actually. I had hoped to continue.”

He studied her face, searching her gaze for something. His next question surprised her.

“Why?”

Belle bit her lip, closing the distance between them. “Because. You think you’re a monster, and you’re not. You’re a man. I think you might even be a good one.”

He scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Well I won’t know until I find out, hmm?” She thought about touching his cheek, but settled instead for taking his hand. “I think you should do your thing, then we’ll go up to the game room and have some fun. Together.”

“What kind of fun did you have in mind?” his tone not genuinely salacious. Belle rolled her eyes.

“Come on, let’s do this.” Stepping over to one of the stone benches, she slipped out of her underwear.

He raised an eyebrow.

“This skirt is too short to go without underwear, I’m afraid. I’d be bleeding all over the place.”

“You worry an awful lot about that.”

“And you don’t worry enough,” she said, leaning back to rest on her elbows. He knelt between her legs, slipping off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves.

They sat for a moment, anticipation building.

“Do you think it’ll still be intense? After… after this morning?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “but there’s only one way to find out. May I?”

She nodded, and he put his hands on her thighs. The sensation was pleasant, but not as charged as some of their connections in the past. As he pressed his mouth to her, flicking out his tongue experimentally, they were both pleased to find that it was not overwhelming. Instead, Belle felt just a slight shock and a warmth that radiated throughout her lower half.

Gold felt the magnetism that so often haunted him during their encounters, but it would be easy to resist if he needed to. He felt the gnawing of his soul, the desire to devour her fully, but was not overtaken by it.

Belle sighed with relief. She chose not to distract herself with the usual, grotesque thoughts, but let herself… well, enjoy wasn’t quite the right word.

Was it?

Gold finished, smiling as he got to his feet. Holding his jacket in one hand, he offered her the other. Belle slipped her panties back on. With a grin, she took his hand.

“Come on.”

* * *

Once up in the entertainment room, Gold revealed a dark secret.

“Shut up! You do not own a Wii!”

“I do. I don’t think it’s ever been used, of course, but it’s in a drawer somewhere.”

“Oh, we are going to have fun!”

Opening a cabinet, Belle found it and within minutes had it on. They started with tennis, which she won, and after three rounds, they switched to boxing. She still won.

“This is ridiculous! If we were really boxing, I’d kick your ass.”

“Well we aren’t really boxing, and I’ve just destroyed you.”

“Absurd. I demand a rematch.”

“Alright, how about we raise the stakes? One final match, and if I win, you have to tell me your first name.”

“Not a chance. Besides, what if I win? I’ve already got your blood, Dearie.”

“Name your price.”

He thought for a moment, before a wicked idea came to mind. “I want… Those black lacy underwear of yours.”

“I didn’t take you for a lingerie man. I assumed boxers, or briefs.”

He laughed. “Clever, but no. I want to mount them on my wall. Maybe I’ll even add a name plate.” He grinned wolfishly.

Belle bit her lip. “I haven’t even had a chance to wear them yet.”

“I’ll admit that does decrease their value…”

Belle smacked him on the arm. “Fine, it’s a deal. Your name, or my panties, to the winner of the next round.”

Taking up their controllers, each readied themselves for battle. It was a close fight, and for a moment it seemed as though Gold would come out the winner; he cackled with excitement, ready to deal a final blow, when Belle made her comeback.

“Yes… yes! YES!”

Gold positively hissed, but it did him no good. He lost. He dropped back to the couch, chucking his controller onto the ground.

“This is bollocks!”

“I’ll be having your name, Mr. Sore Loser.”

Belle grinned triumphantly, hands on her hips. He wanted to be mad at her, but she was too sweet, even in victory.

“No, I’m not telling you,” he said, wrinkling up his face.

“You have to. We made a deal.”

“Technically I never agreed.”

She looked at him disapprovingly.

“Fine,” he said, “I’ll lie; you’ll never know the difference.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“No. You wouldn’t.”

He grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. When he didn’t divulge his name, Belle felt emboldened to action. She climbed onto his lap, straddling his knees. He looked at her, shocked.

“What’s your first name, Mr. Gold?”

“I…I…”

When he didn’t immediately answer, Belle scooted forward. His hands flew back against the sofa. His eyes were locked on hers.

“What’s your first name, Mr. Gold?”

He felt as though he were being compelled to tell her, his very body fighting to press forward against hers. There was a magic about her that made him want to kiss her senseless, and confess his every sin.

“How are you doing that?”

Belle cocked her head. “Doing what?”

“It’s like being hypnotized.”

“I think you’re avoiding the question.” She scooted forward again, her pelvis now just inches from his.

“Stop, stop, I’ll tell you. But… but you have to promise not to laugh at me. It was another time, and my father… My father was a cruel man.”

Belle nodded.

“No one else in the world left alive knows this, Belle. You must keep it a secret for me.”

“I promise.”

“My first name…. is Rumplestiltskin.”

“…Are you being honest with me?”

“I am. Rumplestiltskin Gold, at your service.”

Belle bit her lip, then smiled. “I like it.”

“Shut up.”

“I do! It’s very unique, and the nickname possibilities are endless. Rumply.”

“No.”

“Rumples.”

“No way.”

“Stiltykins.”

“Never say that again.”

“Rumple. Rum, even.”

“…I can work with those.”

“Rumple, then. And you know, you can call me Belle more often.” She didn’t realize her hand was on his lapel until it started moving, stroking up his jacket to his collar. She stopped just shy of touching his skin.

He cleared his throat. “Is it time?”

“I don’t know, aren’t you supposed to tell me?”

“My um… spidey senses don’t seem to be working.”

“Well then, let’s find out.” Belle sat up, spreading her knees a bit. Using her hand on his shoulder as a ballast, she slid the other hand under her skirt and into her panties. She dipped her middle finger inside herself, gasping lightly, and then pulled it out. It was covered in blood.

Gold watched her, transfixed.

Feeling very bold indeed, she held the digit up to his lips. He opened his mouth, drawing her finger inside. She gasped again as he sucked it clean, running his tongue along the underside. They did not break eye contact.

She pulled her finger back, and blushed. She climbed off him, dropping to his side.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“No apology needed. We can always blame blood magic.”

“Yes… Must be magic.”

For a long moment they just looked at one another, the connection between them palpable.

“We better-”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, we better get it done.”

Belle leaned back, stretching her legs across his lap. Resting on her elbows, she nodded to her abdomen. “Could you… give me a hand?”

“Oh, um… alright.” Hooking his fingers into her underwear, he pulled them off.

She lifted one leg to drape over the back of the sofa, letting the other rest comfortably, foot on the floor. Rumplestiltskin moved into position. Belle felt her heart jump into her throat as she looked down at him. He watched her from between her thighs, waiting for her permission. Biting her lip, she nodded.

While not as intense as their first encounter of the day, it was certainly not as easy as the last. Belle found herself moaning more than was strictly polite, and Gold could not help using his lips to suckle greedily at her flesh. It was all instinct; hunger and desire rolled together.

When he finished, he sat up and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Breathing raggedly, he watched her. Belle returned his gaze. Not for the first time that day, she realized that she liked the look of Mr. Gold between her legs, and she blushed. She sat up, smoothing her skirt, and he handed her underwear to her.

“Have you eaten lunch?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Perhaps I can whip you up something. I make a polenta-”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Gold yelled.

It was Dove. “I beg your pardon, but we’re having a spot of trouble with… the usual person,” he said, looking shyly at Belle.

“I appreciate your discretion, Dove, but it isn’t necessary. I’ll drive into town to deal with Mr. Rhodes myself.” Gold stood, sliding on his suit jacket. “I must beg your forgiveness, my dear.”

“Not at all. Will you return this evening?”

“I imagine so. If it becomes a problem…”

“I can handle it.” Belle smiled, and turned to the man in the doorway. “Always a pleasure to see you, Mr. Dove.”

He nodded to her. The two men left, and Belle slipped back into her panties. She’d be spending the afternoon alone, then.

Belle was nearly bored to death by the time Gold returned. It was almost nine o’clock. She heard the front door slam and scurried into the entryway to see what the matter was.

Gold was fuming, pacing back and forth. He threw off his jacket and tie, rolling up his sleeves. Belle clung to the banister as she went downstairs, watching the way he growled and stormed about. She didn’t want to incur his wrath, but she also needed to know that he was alright.

“M-Mr. Gold?”

He turned to her, seeing her for the first time, and his demeanor changed. She saw his pupils widen and retract, his nostrils flaring, and he stopped the frantic pacing about the room. Instead he stayed firmly planted, breathing deeply through his nose and keeping his eyes fixed on her.

Feeling brave –or perhaps stupid- she moved gradually closer to him, taking very small steps. She stopped with three feet between them.

“Are you okay, Mr. Gold?”

“No, I’m not okay. I’m fucking dying for a drink. Or to kill someone; I could really go for either.”

Belle bit her lip. “Is there anything I can do to help? Besides you killing me?”

He sighed, exhaling through his mouth and looking down at the floor. He growled the words, “I don’t know.”

“I could read to you. Or we could take a walk, let the air cool your mind.”

“Why do you care?” he hissed, hands balling and unballing at his sides. “I’m a monster. Why can’t you just let me be a monster?”

She turned stern. “You are not a monster, and thinking you are is no excuse to go destroy your study!”

“You haven’t answered my question, Dearie,” he said, stepping closer and leaning down. “Why do you care what I do?”

Belle scrunched up her nose the way she did when she was thinking very hard. “I don’t know. I just do. I don’t like seeing you this way, in pain. And if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better, I will gladly do it.”

He lunged closer to her then, bringing his face to within an inch of hers. Belle flinched at the suddenness of his actions but did not move away. He looked at her, and she returned his gaze. She expected him to kiss her, and part of her wanted him to, but instead he drew back and stepped away.

“I don’t believe there is anything you can do, Ms. French. I need some space. But I promise not to destroy anything, if that reassures you.”

“When will I see you again?”

“Tomorrow, I expect. Sweet dreams.” He turned and left, leaving his clothes strewn about the parlor. Belle let her breathing even out before returning upstairs.

For a moment there, she had really wanted him to kiss her. But, hadn’t she been wanting that for months now? Hadn’t she come at the thought of kissing him on her first trip here? Hadn’t she dreamed of it? Hadn’t she spent all day in the most bizarre ecstasy, allowing him to bring her to climax before breakfast, climbing into his lap before lunch? And the thing with her finger… THAT had come out of nowhere.

He was just intoxicating, this man. He made her feel things, _do_ things that ordinary Belle would never dream of. Ordinary Belle would never tease a man so. Ordinary Belle would not beg a man to make her come, and then cry out his name.

She had not forgotten about that, but she had avoided any attempt at analysis.

She was not in a relationship with Mr. Gold; she wasn’t even sure she wanted to be. But there was no denying that she had feelings for him, powerful feelings, and that he seemed to feel something for her as well. But she could not risk that he was less attached than she, could not put her heart on the line. A clear head was required when dealing with Mr. Gold, everyone knew that, but never had Belle felt it more strongly.

Rumplestiltskin Gold.

He really was a remarkable man.


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning, he came to her chamber.

“Come in!” she called sleepily, sitting up.

“Did I wake you?”

“Only a little.”

“My apologies. I just came to tell you breakfast is ready.”

“Breakfast? Did you make me breakfast?”

“Uh… yes. I did. Is that too much?”

“Not at all. Would you like to… eat, first?” she asked, gesturing to her lower half.

“I suppose that may be prudent.” He joined her on the bed, sliding beneath the covers fully dressed. Together they rid her of her underwear, which had been spotted during the night, and he set to work.

Belle was more sensitive in the mornings, and the way she was reclining with her knees up caused his nose to bump her clit every so often. She was all gasps and little sighs, one hand reaching for the headboard while the other kept trying to wind its way into his hair. Once, her fingers actually connected with his soft locks, and she yanked her hand back so hard she smacked her elbow into the bedframe. She didn’t notice any pain, however, because it was at that moment his tongue collected some blood that was hanging about her clit. Her hips bucked towards his face and she cried out.

He pulled his head back to look up at her. “Would you like me to…?”

Belle nodded, biting her lower lip and keeping her eyes squeezed shut. “Yes, please!”

He kissed the little bundle of nerves, drawing it into his mouth. Moving down, he slid his tongue into her entrance and swirled it. For several minutes he tried all the tricks he knew to bring Belle off, carefully sought out all the places he knew were sensitive, but it just kept torturing her. She was gasping, panting, writhing.

“You have to tell me, Belle. What do you need?”

“C-Could you… could you use your hand?”

He nodded, bringing up a hand to her cunt. Slowly, he pressed his middle finger into her entrance and felt the way her muscles squeezed it, her back arching.

“Oh yes, oh that’s so good!”

He pumped slowly, setting his lips and tongue back to her clit. He added a second finger and curled them, so that they pressed against her pelvic bone. When he pressed the flat of his tongue to her clit and swiped it rapidly side to side, his fingers thrusting in her, she came.

She didn’t say his name this time, thank his lucky stars, but she did cry out, her hand finally burying in his hair. He pressed into the touch, pleased to feel her pussy clench around his digits. He lapped up everything he could.

When Belle blinked open her eyes to the world of the living, she yanked her hand back. “I’m so sorry! I couldn’t help it.”

“Trust me, I’m not offended.” Sitting up, he took the handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his mouth. “Now, we wouldn’t want your breakfast to get cold.”

Belle’s eyes were rooted to his crotch. His traitorous cock, swollen and eager, had tented the front of his pants. Gold stood and attempted to flee from the room.

“No, wait!” Belle rose up on her knees, crawling to the foot of the bed. “If you want, I… I could…”

“No!” he spat, backing towards the door. “No, that is not necessary. Please, enjoy your breakfast.”

“Rumplestiltskin!”

He paused in the hall, the sound of his own name catching him off guard. But he didn’t pause more than a moment, hurrying back to his rooms. Not a moment later, she pounded on the door.

“Rumplestiltskin!”

He didn’t answer.

“I know you’re in there!”

Still, nothing.

“Fine. I’m going to see you later!”

In truth he had made her a wonderful breakfast, with bacon and eggs and pancakes. She ate until she felt about to burst, then made her way back upstairs. She tried again at his door, but he didn’t answer.

It really shouldn’t be a big deal. If he was going to make her come on command, wouldn’t returning the favor be the least she could do? Penises were not her favorite things, to hold or put in her mouth, but, somehow, she didn’t mind. She could even see herself getting on her knees before him, tasting his precum on her tongue as she bobbed her head, eyes looking up. She imagined the way he’d throw his head back, fingers winding in her hair…

Her clit throbbed.

With a sigh, she returned to her own room and masturbated quickly, allowing herself the fantasy of his cock in her mouth. A part of her hoped he wouldn’t be able to tell she’d come again, hoping to hide something she still felt was a bit shameful; but another part of her hoped that he _did_ know, and that he’d realize it was his fault. Maybe if he knew how she wanted him…

No. No compromising the heart. It would be better for them to forget about it.

Tracking him down in the late morning proved more difficult than she anticipated. He was not in the greenhouse or the gym, his study or the library. He was not in the entertainment room, and she was almost certain that he had left his bedroom. Eventually she decided to put on a scarf and wander the grounds, where she got lucky. He was trimming plants from Hummington’s garden when she snuck up on him.

“Rumple.”

He started, dropping his shears. “Gods, Belle. You frightened me.”

“You’ve been hiding.” She walked toward him slowly.

“Monsters don’t hide from anything.”

“You’re not a monster...”

“You keep saying that.”

“…And you are hiding from me. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier. If you like, we can just stick to our deal. I’ll leave you alone except for our sessions. Speaking of…” She gestured to a bench, and Rumple nodded, following her over. She sat, peeling off her underwear and spreading her legs. He knelt, and cleared his throat.

He cleaned her quickly. Again the post-orgasm encounter was less intense; perhaps it was a reward for their messy deed.

He stood, wiping his mouth. “My offer still stands, just so you know. Regardless of the… consequences.”

“As does mine,” Belle said, standing, underwear in hand. She closed the space between them. He furrowed his brow at her, that quizzical, searching look, and she stepped away, leaving him to his plants once more.

He came and found her in the library just after lunch, little conversation passing between them. But when he finished, he grabbed a book and sat in an overstuffed armchair instead of leaving. She grinned.

Her period continued to be a moderately heavy one; he drank from her every hour or so until she retired, their final session taking place in her bedroom.

When he finished, Belle shifting her hips somewhat restlessly, he stood to go. Belle stopped him.

“Rumplestiltskin…”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He gave a half-smile. “Sure.”

Belle looked down at her lap, hands fidgeting. “Are you… Are you attracted to me?”

He swallowed. “Why… why do you ask?”

“Well, I know you said it’s a, a physical reaction, but I was wondering… if it’s just that? Just a base physical response?”

He was about to reply in the affirmative, certain that it was what she wanted to hear, until he noticed the way her cheeks had flushed. She was biting her lip so nervously…

“It’s mostly physical. Ninety percent… or maybe seventy-five.”

It was as much as he could say without giving it all up; it was too much like a declaration of love already. Belle’s lips curled in a small smile, but she kept her eyes on her lap. He hoped she understood.

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“Goodnight, Ms-... Belle.”

“Goodnight, Rumplestiltskin.”

He woke her once, in the middle of the night. She fought to stay awake as he worked on her beneath the sheets, his clever tongue teasing her in the most delicious of ways. She moaned softly. One hand wound into his hair on instinct. She could not stay awake, as it turned out, and was just slipping back to sleep as he finished. She felt him take her hand from his head, holding it carefully in his own, and she felt him press a kiss in the center of her palm. She hummed, smiling, and curled her hand against her chest. With a roll and a wiggle, she was back asleep.

The following morning they spent in the greenhouse, Belle reading while Gold tended to his plants. In the afternoon she managed to drag him upstairs to the entertainment room, putting on a series of her favorite movies, some of which drew protestation.

“Another romantic comedy? You’ve got to be joking.”

“I love _The Holiday_!”

“I expected a woman with your mind would favor more intellectual pieces.”

“That was foolish of you. Besides, you’re the one who owns these movies.”

“A fluke, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

About halfway through the movie they had another session, at least the fifth of the day, and when he finished, Belle decided not to sit up. Instead she laid her legs over Gold’s lap and tucked an extra pillow beneath her head. After some time, she felt his hand on her ankle. She looked down at him; he seemed absorbed into the film.

A moment later his other hand settled on her knee. Belle worked very hard to keep silent as his fingers started to rub little circles on her skin; she found the sensation very pleasant. When he touched a sensitive place on the back of her knee, she giggled and flinched.

His attention was drawn to her suddenly, and then to his hands on her. He snatched them back. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea-”

“No, I liked it. I’m just a little ticklish.”

“That’s good to know.”

“So you can avoid tickling me, or so you can do it on purpose?”

He smiled. “Both, maybe.”

“You know, you don’t have to ask permission to touch me every time. I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I could hurt you. You’ve seen me angry; it’s not a pretty sight.”

“And yet you’ve never touched me in anger. I don’t think that will change just because you can take my hand without asking.”

“Why-… You shouldn’t even want me to touch you.”

“Right, I forgot that you know what I want and make all my decisions for me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Belle sat up. “I know what you meant, and you know my response. You’re just a man, Rum, and I decidedly do not have a problem with you touching me.”

“You’re barking mad, Belle French,” he said, deliberately placing a hand on her thigh. He slid it up her skirt experimentally, before pulling it back to her knee. She kept eye contact with him, feeling a shiver as goosebumps erupted over her limbs. He watched her like he expected her to recoil in disgust, but she did no such thing.

After a moment he quit their staring contest, gently moving her legs to the side in order to stand up. “I believe Mrs. Potts has just pulled your dinner from the oven. You had better go eat.”

“Aren’t you joining me?”

“No, I believe I have some work to do in my study. But I’ll see you this evening.”

Belle nodded and stood. She passed close by him on her way from the room, her arm brushing his. When she had departed, he shivered, pressing a hand to the spot she had touched.

The dinner was wonderful, but she did not see him that evening. Dove intercepted her outside his study and, with a sad smile, told her he was busy.

She read in bed until the urge to sleep was too overwhelming. She expected, or rather hoped, that he’d wake her in the night, but he never came.

The following morning she found him in the kitchen with a mug.

“Hello.”

“Ah, Ms. French. I’m afraid I’m going to be too busy to continue our regular dealings. As such, I’ve decided to send you home.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry to be so unwelcoming. Mrs. Potts is packing your things as we speak.”

Belle felt her heart drop. “I didn’t realize I was such an inconvenience.”

He stepped towards her, and she stepped back. He sighed. “It’s not you that inconveniences me, my dear. It’s life. I really am very sorry.”

Belle chewed the inside of her cheeks. “I understand. Then I’ll see you next month.”

“You needn’t rush. There’s coffee, and I’d be happy to make you breakfast.”

“No thank you. I think I’d better be going.”

“Very well.”

She turned, exiting the kitchen with him at her heels. Mrs. Potts met them in the entryway with her bag. “I’ve taken the stained things.”

“Thank you.”

Gold opened the door for her, and she threw her bag in her car. She moved to climb inside, but he grabbed her hand.

“Please, Belle... Please forgive me.”

She sighed, feeling her anger ebb away. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

He lifted her hand and kissed it. Belle was loathe to pull away, but she had to be getting home. Perhaps she could put in some hours at the library in the afternoon.

“Goodbye, Rum.”

“Bye, Belle.”

He shut her door and watched her drive away.

The next couple of weeks proved to be a Herculean feat of strength for the both of them. Belle had sworn to herself that she wouldn’t break; she would not seek him out before their next appointment. However, she didn’t have to wait after all.

Early one morning Belle got a call from the Sheriff. Her father had been picked up for public intoxication, but they weren’t going to press charges. Could she please come collect him from the station?

Belle and Moe only lived a few blocks away, so she went on foot. It was as she stumbled back, a half-conscious Moe slumped over her shoulder, that she saw him.

The prim and proper Mr. Gold was standing on her front porch.

“Oh. Hello, Ms. French.”

Belle staggered under the weight of her father. “Hullo.”

“Let me help you.” He took Moe’s other arm and together they got him into the house. Belle guided him to the sofa where he collapsed, snoring almost as soon as his head his the cushions.

She turned to Gold and pushed him back out the door. “What are you doing here?”

“I… I just… um…”

“Nevermind, I don’t want to know. Just go, please.”

“Belle…”

“Please go!”

“Not until you tell me why.”

Belle felt tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t want you to see me here.”

“What? Why on Earth not?”

“Because! Because this place is a hole. Because… because when I’m at your manor I can pretend I’m someone else.” Her tears fell in earnest now. “But here I’m just… I’m just Moe French’s daughter. Plain Belle French.”

Stepping forward, he pulled her into his arms. She cried against his chest. “Belle you could never be ordinary. Not anywhere in the world.”

“I never wanted you to see this place.”

“I looked for you at the library, first. But Belle, please, don’t be ashamed on my account. I was born in a hovel, a literal hovel! Dirt floors, rotting hay above our heads… And I was raised by women whose thrift and negotiation meant the difference between life and starvation.”

She sniffled. “It’s hard to imagine you in anything less than a mansion.”

“I suppose that’s a compliment.” He raised his head from where it had rested on hers, and brought up one hand to stroke her cheek. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

Belle let go of him, taking the smallest of steps backwards. She wiped at her eyes, forcing steady breaths to stop her crying. “You could walk me to work. If… if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t, but people would see us together. Is that… is that alright?”

Belle nodded. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

“Let me grab my things,” she said, disappearing inside just long enough to grab her purse and run a hand through her curls. When she came back out, he was down on the walk, surveying her small garden.

“These azaleas are lovely.”

“Thank you.” She took his proffered arm, and they walked slowly into town.

“Are you sure you don’t mind being seen with the town villain?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind being seen with the town drunk’s strange daughter?”

“Fair point. I thought Leroy was the town drunk.”

“Pretty sure Papa has taken that title.”

“Can I say something that is perhaps indelicate?”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

“I was not aware how heavily your father’s alcoholism weighs on you. Had I known, I think I would have thrown every ounce of it from my home before you ever arrived.”

“It’s not really that bad.”

He coughed politely. “Never lie to a liar, Dearie.”

“Alright, it is that bad. Do you hate me for taking advantage of you?”

“Advantage of _me_? How so?”

“Every month I get a one week vacation from my troubles at your estate, as well as a huge financial burden off my shoulders. I won’t ask again what you get from our deal, but I think you grasp now how much I have to gain.”

“I hardly think you’re taking advantage of me. Our deal takes a toll on you, as well.”

“On us both.”

“Perhaps. But I would not end it for the world.”

“No?”

“No. You are a rare creature, Belle French. I quite enjoy our time together.”

She couldn’t contain her grin. “Hey, you never said why you were looking for me.”

Arriving at the library door, he stopped, and turned to face her. “I should think that would be quite obvious.”

“Perhaps… But I’d like you to say it none the less.”

“Ms. French, I-” he stopped short as a woman exited the library and another entered. He stepped closer to her, lowering his lips to her ear to whisper. “I found myself missing you, Belle.” He drew back, putting on his best landlord face. “I hope that’s not an inconvenience.”

“Not at all, Mr. Gold. Goodbye… for now.”

He tipped his head to her, and started the walk to his shop. Belle watched him go, bit her lip, and headed inside.

That evening she decided to treat herself to dinner at Granny’s, which was a horrendous mistake. She’d hardly sat down before Ruby slammed a menu onto the table. “You were seen walking to work with the devil on your arm. Explain yourself.”

“Hullo, Ruby, nice to see you too.”

The girl slid into the booth across from Belle. “I thought you were just… arranging his library or something.”

“I am. He stopped by to talk about it, and we got chatting, and I was late for work so he walked me.”

“Do you smell that?”

“What?”

“Bullshit.”

Belle groaned.

“Seriously, Belle. It’s one thing to work for the guy, but to let him parade you down Main Street?”

“It’s more accurate to say that I was parading him.”

“So you _want_ people to think you’re together?!”

“That’s not what I’m saying!”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that what Mr. Gold and I do in our spare time is no one else’s goddamn business, no matter how erotic or innocuous it may be!” She shoved the menu back at Ruby. “I’ll have a cheeseburger please, and iced tea.”

Ruby got up, grumbling as she walked away. Belle snuck a look around the diner, and found most eyes on her. Great.

Just then Gold walked by, catching her eye through the window. He half-smiled, and it took all of Belle’s resolve to frown, shaking her head. He seemed to catch her meaning and, with a frown of his own, walked away.


	15. Chapter 15

The remaining days before she could see him again were excruciating. At long last her period came, and she packed a bag and jumped in her car and felt more free than she had in her entire life. He kissed her hand as he helped her from her car, and he whisked her inside like a fairytale princess.

They sat on her bed for nearly an hour just catching up, before the warmth between Belle’s legs demanded their collective attention. He helped her free from her underwear, and moved into position.

“The first is usually the worst.”

She nodded.

Sure enough, the jolt of his tongue was breathtaking. Belle gasped, hands flying to grip the comforter, as his tongue worked its way up and down her folds. He growled, sucking at the skin near her entrance, tongue licking frantically for every trace. He buried his tongue in her to draw out the blood, before lapping at her like a starving cat. She found her back arching, hips lifting off the bed, and he pushed her down with his face, finishing off his feast with one last suck. He turned his head and pressed his mouth to her thigh, kissing the flesh hungrily several times.

When he did finally pull away it was breathlessly, his hands covering his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry…”

Belle, still struggling to regain her own breath, sat up. “Rum, Rum it’s alright, come here,” she cooed, reaching for him, but he pulled even further away. He stumbled until his back hit the wall. “It’s okay! Please, Rum, please just come here.”

“I lost control.”

“Don’t you know me better by now?” She sighed and stood, approaching him slowly. “You didn’t hurt me, you didn’t offend my delicate sensibilities… I know how intense it can be. I promise you, it’s all right.”

She pulled him into her arms. Slowly, he let himself relax against her, head falling to her shoulder. “You keep saying I’m not a monster, but then I go and act like one.”

Belle giggled. “If kissing my leg is you being a monster, then I have greatly misunderstood your use of the term.”

“I’m supposed to be gentle during our encounters, unselfish… Clinical, even. That was not clinical!”

“And neither is it when I beg you for release. This thing… it’s anything but easy. It’s messy and complicated, and if we flew apart every time we had a physical reaction, Mrs. Potts would be mopping us up off the floor.”

He let go of her, leaning back and straightening his shirt. “Indeed. I think I need a cold bath, after that. Do you need… anything?”

“No, I’m alright. I’ll see you later.”

He nodded his farewell and exited. Rubbing her legs together, Belle sighed. She needed a great many things, indeed. But they’d have to wait. She stretched and felt a pain in her lower abdomen. It was an omen of cramps, and bad ones. Peeking in the medicine closet, she found a bottle of Tylenol and took a few.

Belle ate alone, as always thanking Mrs. Potts for a decadent meal. She retired to her room after that, curling up with _Much Ado About Nothing._ Rumple didn’t join her for another hour, not looking much better. She patted the bed beside her and coaxed him to lie down.

“Maybe I should drink your blood this time.”

He laughed. “Very funny.”

“Seriously, Rum, how can I help you?”

“Got any wooden stakes?”

She poked his arm. “I don’t think I’m bleeding very much. At least it’ll be fast.”

“If I step out of line again, you can hit me, or kick me, or something.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“I don’t want to take advantage of you, Belle.”

“You won’t,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You haven’t. Now let’s do this thing, and then I’ll read to you for a while. Okay?”

He nodded, and moved into position. Their session was still fairly charged, Belle’s hips shunting toward his face, Gold’s tongue delving between her folds, but it was not as bad as the first. Belle felt as though she could come any second, but by the mercy of God, she didn’t. Not that she didn’t enjoy when their sessions ended in orgasm, but it was probably best not to do those too often.

Gold finished without incident and wiped his mouth on his handkerchief. Belle coaxed him back to her side on the bed. She read from the play for nearly an hour until they both started dozing off.

“I think it’s time I was off to bed.”

“You could stay here, you know. I’m a fierce snuggler.”

“I had better not. But I’ll see you in the morning, sweetheart.”

Belle flushed at the term of affection he didn’t seem to realize he’d used. “Sweet dreams.”

He threw a blanket over her before he left.

Not for the first time, Belle wondered about the state of her heart. Every day it seemed to belong less and less to her and more and more to the enigmatic Mr. Gold. She could see that he cared for her, perhaps more deeply than she had any right to hope for; it was evident in his every touch and word and gesture. The very fact that he thought a kiss to her thigh was an affront, when he’d just licked her pussy clean, was a sign that he respected and cherished her.

He named plants after her. He missed her enough to seek her out. But he never forced her to do anything she didn’t want to, and was constantly respecting her boundaries, even when she didn’t really want him to. It seemed he was so convinced that she couldn’t want him that he’d decided to ignore any and all evidence to the contrary.

She’d find a way to show him soon enough.

The following morning she woke up with severe cramps. She curled herself into a ball and whimpered, pulling a pillow over her head. He came to her not long after. She felt the pressure of him sitting on the mattress.

“What do you need?”

“Tylenol. Heating pad. Please.”

He left and was back in a moment with a glass of water and the pills. She took them, sitting up with a wince. He appeared again with a heating pad and plugged it in, handing it to her. She pressed it to her abdomen and groaned, leaning her head back against the headboard.

“Shall I read to you?”

“Please. Would you sit with me?”

“Of course.” He crawled onto the bed beside her. Belle pressed herself against him, curling around the heating pad.

“Where are you?”

“Act IV. Where Benedick confesses his love.”

He groaned. “You just happened to stop there?”

“Calling me a liar?”

“Maybe.”

“Read it anyway.”

“I’m not reading both parts.”

“I know Beatrice’s lines by heart.”

“Of course you do. Ahem… _I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is not that strange?_ ”

“ _As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you: but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing._ ”

They read for about an hour, until Gold slipped beneath the covers to lick her clean. The pain of her cramps checked her arousal. He finished quickly.

“You need breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Come on, if you eat a few bites of oatmeal, I’ll keep reading. I may even do some silly voices.”

She protested, but he dragged her to her feet and down to the kitchen. After eating a few nibbles, he cajoled her to drink some warm tea before allowing her to drag him back up to her bedroom. She wrapped herself up in a blanket with the heating pad pressed to her abdomen.

They finished the play, but Belle would not let go of his arm long enough to get another.

Gold squeezed her hand. “It kills me seeing you like this.”

“Pretty sure I’m the one dying. Besides, aren’t you dead already?”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

Belle nuzzled his arm, giving a tight, secretive smile. “You were right. I hadn’t even finished Act Two.”

“I knew it.”

Gold grinned, watching her wriggle under another blanket. “I’m going to sleep until I literally can’t anymore. Feel free to wake me up when it’s time.”

“You aren’t bleeding much. I’ll see you when you wake up.” Gold slipped from the room. He busied himself with paperwork for an hour or so, and was on his way to see her when Dove intercepted him.


	16. Chapter 16

Belle couldn’t help but smile when she heard the knock on her door.

It only opened an inch. “Miss Belle?”

“Mr. Dove?”

“I’m very sorry Miss Belle, but Mr. Gold has to go out of town for a couple of days. He said you are to stay here and have anything you wish; just holler and me or Mrs. Potts will come running.”

“Oh. I see…”

“He, um… He also said that if you want, I’m to read to you. Under penalty of death. He says you like being read to.”

“Oh, uh, that’s alright, Mr. Dove. It’s not so much the reading I like…”

Although she couldn’t see his face, she would have bet he was grinning from ear to ear.

“He’ll come back as soon as he can, Miss Belle. For you.”

“Thanks Mr. Dove. I’ll call if I need you.”

The door slipped shut.

She did not see him for two more days. She spent most of her time curled in bed with the heating pad and books, taking pain killers like candy. She didn’t often get cramps, but when she did they were severe. They were worse in the mornings and before bed, so she spent the early afternoon walking around the gardens. The flowers were all blooming in the April air, and Belle greatly enjoyed her interludes there, but she could not shake the feeling that were he walking with her, sharing little facts and insights about each blossom, then her walks would be even better.

When he did return, it was the evening of her fourth night. Her entire body ached. He knocked on the door and she sat up, blinking at him with weary eyes and greeting him with a smile.

“Are you alright? Have they been taking care of you?”

“I’ve been taken care of.”

“And are you still in pain?”

She nodded. Gold stripped off his jacket, climbing onto the bed beside her.

“Do you trust me?”

“Mhmm.”

“Sit up.”

She did as he commanded. He sat behind her, legs outstretched, and pulled her gently back against his chest.

“Are you sure you trust me?”

“Very.”

Discarding the heating pad, he slipped his right hand beneath her sweater. She pressed back against him, shivering at the sensation of his fingers on her skin. He rubbed her abdomen, using light pressure to massage her sore muscles.

“Are you quite sure you trust me? Like, really really sure?”

“Yes! Stop asking me that.”

He reached his left arm around her and slowly, very slowly, slid it under her skirt. He drew circles on her thighs for several minutes, until finally he drew it up to her cunt. He parted her folds, coating a finger in her wetness, which was mostly blood; she gasped as he slid it into her, wriggling for a moment to get more comfortable. She placed her hands on his legs to reassure him.

He pumped his finger slowly, Belle moaning and squeezing his thighs. After a few minutes he added a second. With his gentle ministrations, Belle found herself moving closer and closer to orgasm.

Belle whimpered. She needed something, but as he crooked his fingers, she couldn’t summon enough rational thought to figure out what.

“Come for me, love,” Gold whispered, his lips on the shell of her ear. “Come for me.”

That was it. She felt her muscles contracting around his fingers and she cried out, back arching. “R-R-R-Rummm!!” She came apart.

So did he, his hips bucking against her backside as he came in his pants for the second time in their short acquaintance.

Belle fell back against him. He pulled his fingers from her and sucked them clean. After a few moments she collected herself, and turned slowly in his loose embrace. She held herself up on her arms, her face just inches from his, her eyes searching his for something with a dangerous name.

“Belle,” he whispered, but was silenced by her lips on his. She kissed him softly, the most incredible sensation rushing straight to their heads, but he didn’t kiss her back; it wasn’t until she kissed him again, taking his lower lip between hers, that he dared to return the gesture. Cupping her face with one hand, the other on the small of her back, he squeezed his eyes shut. He kissed her ardently, passionately, and she returned his intensity, her own hands sliding around his neck.

His hand on her back pulled her closer, her legs opening to straddle his hips. After a few minutes of kissing, she ended it, but let her lips drag across his cheek as she kept her face close to his.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Belle, I-”

“I’m not asking for anything else. Just stay here.”

“Okay. But I need to go clean myself up.”

Belle looked down, blushing. “I suppose I should too. But then you’ll come back?”

“Why do you want to spend the night with an old monster?”

Belle bit her lip, a quiet smile gracing her face. She touched the corner of his jaw with her fingers. “Because I missed you.”

“Really? Was it terrible?”

“Totally. So it’s only fair that we make up for lost time.”

“I couldn’t agree more. I’ll be back in a few minutes, and I’ll be totally at your disposal.”

“I get to be the little spoon?”

“Of course,” he said, his eyes catching on her lips. Smiling, he couldn’t resist stealing one more small kiss before escaping her grasp and getting off the bed.

Belle ran to the restroom and changed into her nightgown. She was crawling back beneath the covers as he entered, and she was pleased to see that he had forgone the (no doubt matching) top to his pajama bottoms. He slipped in beside her, pressing himself flush against her back. Belle sighed as his arm curled around her middle, his mouth delightfully close to her ear.

“Goodnight, my beauty.”

“Goodnight, my Rumplestiltskin.”

When they woke, neither was sure who had actually started the kiss, but there they were, kissing as tenderly in the first light of day as fairies might. Gold dragged his lips across her skin as he kissed a trail from her mouth to her neck, making sure to hit every sensitive and important spot along the way.

Belle sighed, sliding an arm around him to pull him closer. “Oh, Rumple…”

“I think it must be time,” he whispered between kisses. “Shall I provide for your pleasure while I’m down there?”

“No need,” she purred, rolling onto her back but keeping her hands on him as he slid down beneath the covers. Her nails scratched lightly on his bare skin until he was too far away, her fingers settling for his silky hair. “I’m practically dying of contentment already.”

It was a job soon finished, and he crawled back to her side eagerly, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her properly. “You’re hardly bleeding anymore.”

“And my cramps have gone.” She sighed, pressing her forehead to his. “That means it’s time for me to leave the castle.”

“Don’t go. I hardly got to see you, a tragedy of my own making which, in your absence, would leave me feeling bereft.”

“I have to go. There’s someone who needs me.”

Gold tensed, pulling away to lie down but not removing his arm from her. “You’re a beautiful young woman. You should be free to live your life how you choose to live it.”

“He’s the man who raised me. That means something.”

“I know, I know,” he said, taking her hand from his hair to kiss her palm. “Call me. For anything, at any time, and I’ll be there in an instant.”

Belle smiled, rolling to kiss him again.

They lay in bed for nearly an hour just kissing, until their lips were sore and Belle’s stomach was growling. Gold fed her a hearty breakfast and, when she tried to leave, managed to distract her with his lips for nearly another hour.

Eventually she won though, as she always did, and he kissed her all the way to her car.

“Enough!” Belle cried, pushing his shoulders. “You’re turning my insides to jelly. I think I ought to return the favor.” Hands on the back of his neck, she pulled him down to her level and pressed her lips to his neck. Using teeth and tongue and suction, she worked at the skin, determined to leave a nice big mark.

He growled, gripping the hood of her car with his hands, his body pinning her to the metal frame. When she pulled away there was red irritation of his skin at the juncture where neck met shoulder. She hoped it would turn lots of pretty colors.

“Could you wait to see me until next month?” he asked, burying his hands in her hair as he memorized the details of her face.

“I’d rather not. Perhaps a meeting should be arranged. Say, Wednesday at noon?”

“I’m definitely free.”

“Lunch then, Granny’s.”

“I’ll see you Wednesday.”

His eyes didn’t leave her battered Chevy until it finally disappeared from view.


	17. Chapter 17

Time passed slowly, as it is wont to do when something exciting lies just over the horizon.

Belle took care of her father and worked double shifts at the library; Gold chose not to threaten anyone and only made deals that would annoy the unwitting, rather than ruin their lives completely.

Wednesday arrived with birdsong and rainbows.

Belle was so giddy that she went to work early and totally immersed herself in the overhaul of the displays. Around eleven thirty a group of kindergarteners came in and she read with them, not noticing the slippage of time. She looked up from a conversation with a parent to find that it was already past 12:30. Belle gasped, stuttered an apology and sprinted from the library without so much as grabbing her coat or punching out.

When she ran into Granny’s and didn’t see him, she felt her heart sink. Ruby said something but it didn’t register; Belle was already to her way to his shop. The sign said closed, but she knew better. She knocked on the glass.

And kept knocking, until finally he burst from the back room with a scowl on his face. It softened, when he saw her, but she recognized the coldness of his demeanor before he even opened the door.

“Can I help you Ms. French?”

“I’m really, truly, terribly sorry. I was busy and I just lost track of time! But I don’t want to make excuses… it was my fault. I should have been more careful. Can you forgive me, R… Mr. Gold?”

He sighed, drawing her inside and relocking the door. He shut the blinds for good measure. “Of course I forgive you. I should have called instead of hiding here like a scolded dog.”

Belle smiled, wrapping her arms around his middle. “If I’m forgiven, can I have a kiss?”

“Many,” he whispered, leaning down to place his lips on hers. He slid his hands across her neck, thumbs stroking over her jaw. She shivered.

“Perhaps… I can make it up to you?” Experimentally, she slid one hand down to cup him through his trousers.

He gasped, hand flying to her wrist. “Don’t be silly, I should be the one offering you such things.”

“Silly? There’s nothing silly about it. You’ve been down on me more times than I can count and I’ve yet to see your cock.”

He growled at the word.

“I want to take care of you, Rumple, the way you take such good care of me,” taking his hand, she led him through the curtain and gently pushed him down onto the cot.

“Belle, you shouldn’t… you’re better than a handjob in the back of my shop.”

She smirked, grabbing the pillow and dropping it to the floor. “Who said anything about hands?”

“Oh no, I can’t let you-”

“I fantasized about this, you know. Last month, when I saw how hard you were and you ran away. Despite having just come, I found myself needing another so badly that I laid back and thought about this very act until I came again.” Belle kneeled. Rumple was looking at her in wonder, with a hint of puzzlement. “May I?”

“Belle…”

“Please?”

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. It was shaking. “Alright.”

She sat back on her heels. “I don’t have to. Don’t let me pressure you into something you don’t want.”

“No, no, I want you to. God, do I want you, Belle. But I don’t see you enjoying it at all, and I might not live up to your expectations, and-”

Belle shushed him, raising herself up to take a kiss. “You worry too much. I want this. Do you?”

“Yes,” he whispered, stealing another kiss before she pulled away.

“Then lean back, and try to relax.”

Putting her hands on his thighs, she moved them slowly back and forth. Once he’d relaxed a little, she moved to undo his button and zipper. He balled the blanket up in his fists.

Belle pulled his pants and briefs down as far as she could, baring just the tip of his cock. She cooed.

“Oh look at you!” Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to the head. Gold hissed, hips rocking. “Let’s get the rest of you bare. I want to see it all.”

With a little coaxing, she managed to get him to lift his hips enough to get his clothes down to his ankles. Belle’s grin transformed into a look of mild shock, her lips making a round O.

“What? What are you staring at?”

“You’re um… you’re…”

“What?” Gold looked at his cock, worried that it had sprouted warts or wings or something.

“Bigger than I imagined. I mean, I assumed you’d be above average, but this… This exceeds my expectations.” She wrapped her hand around the base and pumped it slowly twice, getting a feel for him. He was flushed and rapidly hardening. She kissed the tip again, drawing it into her mouth and swirling her tongue around the head.

“Oh Fuck Jesus Christ,” he gasped, eyes flying shut.

She felt a rush of pride. She licked him from stem to stern several times, her lips open and dragging across his heated skin. She gently held the tip in her fingers, allowing her better access to his length. It was clear to her now, clearer than it had ever been, that Mr. Gold was starved for affection. For months she’d been giving him just that, and it had nearly killed him. This physical manifestation, well… it was best to be gentle.

Once he was good and wet she used her hand to pump the base of him, pulling the head into her mouth. She sucked the first inch and a half, bobbing her head and loving the weight of him on her tongue. She couldn’t hold back a sound of pleasure, humming around his cock. He swore again, eyes fluttering open to watch her. She pulled back to lick the tip, tasting his precum and grinning up at him.

“Am I doing okay?”

“You’re perfect,” he said, brogue thick.

“And you’re delicious,” she said, lowering her mouth to him once more. Belle thought about videos she’d seen of porn goddesses and their talented tongues, how they worked their heads in rhythm with their hands. She didn’t like the fake quality of porn, and she’d never been enthusiastic at this particular task, but this time felt different. He was unraveling beneath her ministrations, and there was sincere joy in knowing that she was the cause of his undoing.

Sucking in air whenever possible, she bobbed along his length, taking more in every minute. When her hand started to meet resistance, she moved to the base again, kissing it with open lips like they did in movies. Her tongue slid out, coating the hot skin in her saliva. She spread it with her hand, repeating the motion until he was slick and she was able to stroke him properly.

She switched hands, leaning it to kiss his balls. She pulled one into her mouth experimentally, and he groaned. She repeated it with the other, tongue darting out lick a stripe from the purse all the way back to his tip.

“Lord, Belle. You’re so good at this. Why are you so good at this?” he panted, struggling to stay upright on the cot.

“Not with practice, if that’s what you’re worried about. Our numbers are roughly the same. Perhaps it’s inspiration,” she said, swirling her tongue around the head again before taking him into her mouth. She pressed herself further, taking deep breaths before each downward motion, feeling his cock brush the back of her throat.

Her eyes began to water but she refused to stop, only pulling away long enough to breathe before setting on him again, hollowing her cheeks on each withdrawal to increase the suction.

“Oh fuck, fuck Belle, I’m so close.”

He let go of the blanket and slid his fingers into her hair. Gently he tried to push her away, but she pressed forward against his touch.

“Belle, you’ve got to… Oh GODS!” His hips rocked forward of their own volition. He started to come, Belle still sucking, his cock buried deep in her mouth, and her hand still working at the base.

“Oh fuck Belle! Fuck…. _Belle_ ,” he moaned as his ejaculate spurted out in several short bursts, dripping onto her tongue as his hips thrust his cock against the back of her throat. He fell back as he finished. Belle swallowed, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and started coughing into her elbow. She drew in ragged breaths.

He reached for her, taking both her hands and drawing her into his lap. Wrapping his arms around her he shifted until they were lying, Belle tucked securely against his chest.

“Would it be uncouth of me to kiss you?”

Belle responded by tilting her head until their lips met. He kissed her passionately, sliding his tongue against hers. He could taste himself, salty and heady. When he finally broke the kiss, he lifted one hand from her waist to delve into her hair, his palm on her jaw.

“You are the most exquisite, marvelous, incredible woman, Belle French.”

She smiled, pressing her forehead to his. “It really has been a while for you, hasn’t it?”

“Even if that weren’t the case, my statement remains the same. I feel magic when I’m with you.”

“Shouldn’t you feel it all the time? As part of your,” she trailed off, her eyes drawn down to his lips, which concealed canine teeth of unusual length.

“That’s different. This is… this is something that only happens when you’re around.” His voice trembled, his thumb stroking over her cheek. “This is something that lives in my heart, and makes it want to beat like it once did.”

Never had Mr. Gold displayed such sentimentality, at least not overtly. Belle kissed him with passion, her lips moving against his, demanding an equal response. “You’re too good to me. I can’t believe it, sometimes.”

Gold chuckled. “I’m hardly the good one.”

“You are, Rum. Even if you don’t know it.” She buried her head in his shoulder, wishing most fervently to stop time. “I have to get back to the library soon.”

Gold grumbled, pulling her more tightly against him. “Don’t we even have time to return the favor?”

Belle blushed. “I don’t need anything, Rum. It makes me feel good to have finally made you happy.”

“You make me happy all the time.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure that I do. Please, be specific,” he said, whispering, a lascivious grin on his face.

Belle smiled. “After all the times you’ve made me cum, it was nice to return the favor. To suck your cock and feel you come in my mouth, the way I have in yours.”

He groaned, kissing her again. “I had no idea that our ‘lunch’ would turn to… this.”

“Neither did I. I didn’t exactly plan to jump you first thing, but when I saw you…I just couldn’t help myself.”

“My research into our… powerful attraction… has not yielded many results. As you mentioned at one point, a sort of hypnotic ensnarement is described in many legends, often used to seduce women for their blood. A sordid past for my kind, I’m afraid.”

“You know that’s not what I think this is, right?”

“Of course. You draw me in with as much magnetism of your own making as I believe I do for you.”

Belle wrinkled her brow. “But I’ve always felt drawn to you. Even before our deal.”

His gaze dropped to her lips, and she though she detected a hint of a blush.

“Rumple?” She lifted a hand to stroke his jaw.

“Do you remember the first time we touched?”

“Yes, of course. I ran straight into you, while reading if I’m not mistaken.”

“And when I handed your book back, we touched.”

“I remember feeling a shock go through my whole body, and it felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

“…Did it ever occur to you that I felt the same?”

“No, never,” Belle said, her surprise evident.

“Imagine, a sixteen year-old girl sending shivers down a three hundred year-old vampire’s spine. It was unthinkable.”

“But you never said anything. You never spoke to me, you didn’t even say hello when I greeted you on the street!”

“Of course not! I have a reputation to maintain, dearest, and it doesn’t involve smiling at teenage girls.”

“Well you always hurt my feelings a little, just so you know.”

“And you made me take a lot of cold baths. I think we ought to be even.”

Belle smiled, pressing her lips to his for another series of tender kisses. “I really have to go back to work. If I leave now I can pick up Granny’s on the way.”

“If you stay for another few minutes, I’ll have Granny’s delivered to your desk.”

“Deal.”


	18. Chapter 18

They made it a ritual, Wednesday lunches, but none ended the way the first had. Hands stayed strictly above the glass counter as they picnicked in his shop, and even the most passionate of kisses ended when it was time for Belle to return to the library.

Of course the town did not stay ignorant for long. Belle started to get cold looks from people on the street, her favorite customers would only checkout books from other librarians, and even Ruby would avoid making conversation on days when Belle popped into Granny’s for a meal or cup of coffee.

The final blow came just a few days before she was supposed to return to Gold’s. Belle woke with a start as the front door slammed. Blinking sleepily at her bedside clock, she saw that it was just after three. Grabbing the can of pepper spray she kept on her nightstand, she threw back the covers and tiptoed to the staircase.

“Papa? What’s the matter?” she asked, Moe pacing angrily across the living room.

“Did you make a deal with that snake?”

“What are you taking about?”

“DID YOU MAKE A DEAL WITH HIM?” He charged at her, stumbling on the bottom steps. Belle backed away.

“It’s none of your business!”

“Don’t speak to me like that in my own home, girl! He’s a villain, scum, and I forbid you from seeing him again!”

“We did make a deal, and I intend to uphold my end.” She stood her ground as Moe lunged at her, grabbing her arm.

“I WILL NOT HAVE MY DAUGHTER BE THE VAMPIRE’S WHORE!”

“I’m not his whore!” She yanked her arm back, bile and fury rising in her throat. “Did you forget that you owe him thousands of dollars? Hundreds of thousands! What do you think happens to that debt, Papa? When you die it becomes mine. And I’m not going to sit idly by and let it grow, the way you have.”

“You’re no daughter of mine. My Belle has more pride than to spread her legs for a monster.”

She slapped him. Moe touched his cheek but didn’t follow as Belle stormed back to her room. She grabbed her bag, already half-packed, and blindly started throwing clothes in. When it was full she picked it up, slipped on a pair of flats, and headed for the door. Her father had retreated to the living room, but had not passed out.

“Where are you going? Where do you think you’re going?!”

“I’m leaving. Or haven’t you noticed that I’ve been gone every month?”

“You’re not going to see him.” Belle pulled open the door and Moe slammed it shut.

“Move your hand, Papa.”

“You will obey me under this roof.”

“I’m not staying under your roof!” Belle faced him. “And in case you forgot, I had the papers transferred to my name, so it’s MY roof. All you own in the world is your own ignorance and hatred.” She started to tear up, her breathing shaky.

“Don’t go, Belle,” Moe said, softening at the sight of his girl in tears. “We’ll find another way. Another way to pay him back.”

“Please, Papa. Don’t ask me to choose between you and him,” she raised a hand to cup his cheek, still red from her slap. “I’m not sure you’d win.”

Moe stepped back, looking away. Belle took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping out into the cool night air. She couldn’t stop the sobs that racked her body, and really she shouldn’t be driving, but she had to get away.

To her surprise, Gold was waiting at the door when she pulled up.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

She couldn’t articulate the heavy weight on her chest; instead she poured herself into his arms, still crying, and let him lead her inside. At the top of the stairs he headed for her chambers but she stopped, pointing to his own door. Wordlessly he acquiesced. Once inside, he pulled back the covers and guided Belle in. She refused to let go of him.

“I’m just going to put on some pajamas, then I’ll join you.”

She nodded, her eyes already begging to return to sleep. When he did finally return, he had hardly slid beneath the covers before Belle grabbed at him. He pulled her into his arms, cooing softly as he held her.

“It’s alright, Belle. I’ve got you. Go to sleep, dearest. I’ve got you…” He pressed a kiss to her temple, feeling the way her breathing slowed and her heartbeat steadied. It was not terribly long before her peaceful little snores lulled him into sleep, as well.

She woke first, grinning at the feel of him solid beneath her fingertips. She licked her dry lips, sitting up just enough to look at him. He looked almost human, vulnerable, except for the fact that he only breathed once per minute and his skin was remarkably firm for a three-hundred year-old. Belle let her hand wander his chest, feeling his ribs and his clavicle, before settling over his heart. It was very faint and very slow, but she could feel it beat. _Bum-bum._

“Not hiding a stake somewhere in those teddy-bear pajamas, are you?”

She grinned. “No, definitely not.”

“Good. Though, I admit this would be one of the better ways to die.”

“Trying to make me blush, Mr. Gold?”

“Succeeding, apparently.” He opened his eyes, finally, and smiled when he looked at Belle. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. I’m sorry for my sudden appearance last night.”

“No apologies necessary. I would normally delight in any occasion that brings us together, but seeing you in tears is an unfortunate exception. Would you like to talk about it?”

Belle sighed. “Not really. Yes. I don’t know.” She dropped to his side, Gold rolling to wrap both arms around her. “My father… He found out about the deal. He called me… he said horrible things, and I’ve never been so furious in my entire life. After everything we’ve been through together, for him to… to…”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. My father abandoned me. I idolized him, but… but he didn’t have enough love in his heart for anyone but himself. It’s the ultimate betrayal.”

Belle sighed again, nestling closer to him, wanting to disappear inside his chest. “He called me your whore.”

Gold’s grip on her tightened.

“You don’t think of me that way, do you?”

“Are you kidding? Of course not! You are divine, Belle French. I have the utmost respect for you as an intelligent, educated, articulate, passionate, stubborn woman.”

“Did you have to include stubborn?”

“Felt natural.”

She chuckled, and he tilted to kiss the top of her head.

Belle made a noise of contentment, relaxing in his embrace. His hand rubbed over her spine, making her skin tingle. She nearly fell back asleep, but the tender way he breathed her in, his nose pressed to her hair, sent a wave of heat to her lower belly that made her rub her thighs together.

When he whispered her name, she felt her hips roll against his.

“Rumple,” she mumbled, her hand sliding up his back. She raised one of her legs, draping it over his hip.

He groaned, feeling her nipples harden and press against him. “Fuck, Belle…”

She moaned, inarticulate sounds of need, as her nails scratched a light trail down his back and made his hips buck against her.

“No, we can’t,” he said, grabbing her hand. He pulled back, scooting away from her.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re still upset, and I won’t take advantage of you.”

“Advantage? Rum, I think we both know I’ve wanted you for a while now. And you want me too, right?”

“More than words can say.”

“Then be with me.”

“I can’t. I would always wonder if you really wanted to, or if you were just taking revenge against your father. Please understand that, Belle.”

She sighed, sitting up. “I do. I understand.”

“Thank you.” He sat against the headboard.

“But don’t think you’re off the hook, Rumplestiltskin.” She gave him a small, flirtatious smile. “I think it’s high time I had you, properly, and I won’t leave this house until I have.” She stood, drank in the look of shock and awe on his face, and flounced from the room.

A shower would do nicely, and a change of clothes. When she emerged from her own chambers, he was waiting to escort her to breakfast.


	19. Chapter 19

The following day they were reading in the library when Gold gave her a wicked grin.

“What?”

“You just started your period, dear.”

Belle scrunched up her nose. “That’s always going to be unnerving.”

“Well now I have a reason to go down on you multiple times a day. I had hoped for a more enthusiastic response.”

“You’re awfully eager for someone who hasn’t let me touch him once since I got here.”

“We cuddled all night.”

Belle gave him a pointed look. “You know what I mean.”

“Ms. French, are you pressuring me into sex?”

“I suppose so, though that wasn’t my intention. I guess I just don’t understand why you don’t feel the way I do.”

He sighed, scooting closer to her on the couch. “I do want to be with you. But it’s been a very long time, and I might lose control and hurt you. I’d hate that.”

“You won’t hurt me, Rum!”

“I wish I felt as confident as you.”

“Well then, I’m making a new rule. Any time you bring me off while drinking my blood, I get to bring you off, too.”

“No way.”

“Then I guess neither of us is having any orgasms.”

“Belle,” he whined, caressing her knee with his hand. “I get a great deal of joy from making you climax.”

“And I feel the same. If I don’t get to see you lose yourself, then you will just have to suffer with me.” She kissed him on the cheek, closed her book, and stood.

“Where are you going?”

“To masturbate. I’m feeling all riled up.”

“C-can I watch?”

“Are you going to masturbate for me?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

He groaned, the library door shutting behind her. A few minutes later he slunk down the hall, creeping to her door with every ounce of supernatural silence he was capable of. He could hear her moaning softly, and licked his dry lips.

“I know you’re out there!”

Drat. “It’s uh, it’s time for our session.”

“No it isn’t.”

“It could be!”

“Are you convinced that I want you yet?”

He sighed, feeling his cock beginning to harden. “That’s not entirely the issue.”

“Whenever you’re ready, Rum. I’ll be here.”

“How can you trust me? How can you want me?”

He heard her get off the bed, moving to mirror him on the other side of the door. “How can you insist on thinking of yourself as monster when you’ve done nothing but help me and care for me? You’ve sacrificed parts of yourself, _for me_. And I want to reciprocate, I want so badly to help you… but I wouldn’t even know how to begin. Except for this. I can give you this,” she said, opening the door.

His eyes raked hungrily over her body. “You… you brought the black panties…”

Her lips quirked up in a half-smile. “I was hoping you’d like them better on me than on your wall.”

Forcing his eyes back up to her face, he reached for her hand. “You do help me, you know. You remind me what it’s like to live in this world rather than hide in the shadows. You make me want to be good, even if I’ve forgotten… That’s a gift no one else could give me. That’s you, Belle… You see the good in everyone and, if it isn’t there, you create it.”

“So you do believe me. You believe that I want you?”

“I cannot fathom why, but… it seems apparent, yes.”

“And you… you want me too?”

“You know that I do,” he said, bringing his other hand to cup her jaw. She pressed into his touch.

“And we… care… for each other?”

Gold opened and closed his mouth several times, but couldn’t speak.

“You won’t hurt me,” she said, keeping her hold on his hand and walking backwards, drawing him into her chambers.

“But-”

“You won’t. I need to know how you feel inside me…”

“Oh, Belle…”

She stopped. “If you don’t want to, we won’t. Nothing less than enthusiastic consent. But if your only concern is treating me like a china doll, then please stop. I won’t break, and you won’t hurt me, and all I want in the world is to fall apart together.” She let go of him, and crawled atop the bed. “It’s your choice, Rumple. There will be no hard feelings if you leave.”

He looked at her with longing. “I want you…. I want you so much…”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Finally, his mouth formed the question he’d been too scared to ask. “What if… what if, once I have you, I can’t let you go?”

Belle felt a pang in her heart, and a flood of relief to hear him speak his mind. “Oh Rum… I’m not going anywhere.”

Before he could doubt himself any further, his feet carried him to her bedside. Belle scooted back as he crawled atop her, getting comfortable with her head atop the mountain of pillows.

He inhaled deeply as his eyes raked over her body. “God, you’re intoxicating.”

She lifted her lips to capture his, hands pushing his jacket off his shoulders. One arm at a time she peeled it off of him, turning her attention to his tie, while her lips and tongue continued their desperate quest to taste every inch of him, starting with his mouth. It wasn’t long before she had his shirt open, her hands exploring his torso.

He dropped to his elbows, pressing his pelvis against hers. Belle moaned, her nails scratching lightly over his back. Gold tore his lips away from hers to drag them down her throat, hands squeezing her sides, fingers flirting with the dark lace of her bra.

“You’ve never let me see you topless before.”

“Time for a change, don’t you think?” she asked, squeezing his hips between her knees.

He growled, kissing a path across her collarbone and down to her breasts. Belle writhed beneath him as he sucked on her soft flesh, moving constantly across her chest, kissing her sensitive skin. His hands slid beneath her to find the clasp.

She helped him take it off, and watched his expression unfold. Awe, lust, joy; it was all written in his wide pupils and the darkening of his irises. He groaned as he dropped, wrapping his lips around a puckered pink nipple. He teased the peak with his tongue and teeth, bringing up his hand to hold the other breast. He kept his grip firm, massaging and tweaking the nipple between his fingers. Belle whined, locking her legs around his middle. He switched his mouth to the other side.

It wasn’t long before Belle had had enough. Burying her fingers in his hair, she tugged gently to pull his head away.

“Clothes. Off. Now.”

“Yes my dear,” he said, rocking back on his heels and stripping off his upper layers. Belle undid his belt, pulling it free with a satisfying susurrus. She ripped open the front of his pants and he swayed forward, jolting as she slid her hand inside to cup him through his silk briefs.

Grabbing the waistbands together she yanked his layers down, freeing his hardening cock, albeit rough in her haste. As Belle removed her own underwear, he finished removing his, and he watched closely as she bit her lip, eyes fixed on his penis. Tentatively she took him in hand, stroking softly with a loose grip.

“I believe I have an emergency condom stash, somewhere.”

“I have an IUD. Which I’m now very thankful for.”

“Why?” he asked, watching as Belle sat up onto her knees.

“Because I’d really like to feel you come inside me.”

“Oh, fuck me sideways,” he growled, pushing his forehead against hers.

“Not quite what I had in mind,” she said, kissing him. She licked the seam of his lips until he let her in, deepening the kiss as she took him in hand again. Shifting, she spread her stance and guided his cock between her legs.

She whimpered as the blunt head of him pushed through her folds. She wriggled until the length of his shaft was pressing against her from beneath. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and continued to kiss him, allowing her wetness from her earlier masturbation to coat his cock.

They began to rock together, more of an instinct than a rhythm, Belle moaning as he rubbed against her clit and labia. His arms had wrapped around her and now he slid one hand down, cupping an ass cheek and giving it a squeeze. Belle bucked against him, jarring their kiss. She hissed as one of his canines caught her lip. She pulled back, lifting a hand to her mouth. She could taste the blood.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“No no no,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s nothing.” She kept her other arm locked behind his neck, weaving her fingers into his hair. “Rum?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to stop?”

“No.”

“Would you kiss me?”

He tipped his head down, moaning as he pulled her lower lip into his mouth and could taste the blood. Slowly Belle leaned back, Rum guiding her to lay on the bed. He stayed close atop her, breath turning heavy at the prospect of continuing. Belle’s hands explored his lower back, her kisses becoming sloppy with need.

“Please, Rum.”

“Please what, sweetheart?”

“I need… I need to feel you…. In me,” she whispered, crying out as he bumped her clit.

“Oh, right. Of course. We need lubricant.”

“I think I should suffice. Just be slow, please.”

“Right,” Rumple mumbled, holding himself on one arm while he lined them up with the other. The tip pressed against her entrance and she whined. “Are you sure about this, Belle?”

She looked up at him with dark eyes, nodding.

“We can’t come back from this, you know.”

“I don’t want to come back. I want to come.” She smirked at her own joke.

“You are the most peculiar girl, Belle.”

“And you like it.”

“Damn straight. Alright, here I go,” he sucked in a breath, pushing forward slowly until his tip was buried in her. Belle gasped, head falling as her back arched. “Are you ok?”

She nodded frantically. “Keep going.”

Slowly and with much labored breathing, he sank into her inch by inch. Finally he was buried, his balls pressing against her. Belle had gathered the comforter in her fists and was panting.

“Oh fuck, Rum!”

“Belle… Belle, are you alright?”

“Mhmm. Are you?”

“Yes. You feel incredible.”

Belle exhaled, a rush of joy, her face bright. “It is. It’s incredible.” She shifted her hips gently, whining as she adjusted to the feeling. “Oh God! I’ve never… never felt…”

“What? Please tell me.”

“I’ve never felt so full! It’s so much…”

He groaned, his hips bucking against her involuntarily, which elicited a cry. “Fuck! I’m sorry.”

“Oh yes! Oh, do it again.”

Tenderly, he pulled an inch of his cock out and drove it back in. He panted, falling forward onto his elbows.

Belle’s cry was ecstatic. Slowly, they developed a rhythm. She rolled her hips on each stroke, becoming so constantly vocal that it became a stream of nonsense. Rumplestiltskin could make out some variants of his own name, a few expletives and lots of drawn-out vowel sounds.

Therefore when she cried, “I’m cu… I’m, M cuu…!” he was unprepared for what followed: the sensation of her muscles clamping around his cock, squeezing as he thrust in and out of her, the flood of warmth and wetness that he found so erotic, the sound of his name (“Rruuuuuuu-uuuummmm!!!”) which was the last thing he needed to come inside of her.

Had it not felt like pure Heaven, he might have felt more guilty about how short their encounter had been. As it was, he felt his fluids spurt out and mingle with hers as his hips jerked. He heard the raw pleasure in Belle’s voice as she screamed, her body rocking, one hand gripping the blanket and the other in his hair.

He came to a few minute later, drooling on her neck. Belle was still panting, her hand stroking through his wavy strands. He dragged his lips to hers for a messy kiss. She responded eagerly, nipping his lower lip.

As soon as he could, he pushed himself off of her, rolling to her side. Belle took his hand, interlocking their fingers. It was another minute or two before they spoke.

“…Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Belle turned her head to look at him. “That felt…”

“Yeah.”

“When can we do that again?”

Gold laughed, a real, rich laugh. “Uh, I don’t know. Whenever you like, I suppose.”

Belle moaned, pressing her thighs together. “Don’t say that, you’ll never get out of bed.”

“I’m not complaining,” he said, turning onto his side to rub a hand across her belly.

“You might just be the death of me, Rumplestiltskin.”

“My darling, I have been convinced since the moment we met that you would be my undoing.”

With a mutual smile, they shared a kiss. Belle finally pulled away, standing on heavy legs. “I’m going to clean myself up. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He stretched out, feeling like a cat.

She returned soon enough, with a damp washcloth. She tossed it and hit him in the face.

“I toyed with the idea of cleaning you myself, with my mouth, of course, but I’d hate to blow your mind unintentionally.”

“How thoughtful.” He wiped off his soft cock and chucked the rag back to the bathroom. Belle lay beside him, and he curled against her back. His knees fit perfectly behind her bent legs, his arm reaching around to gently cup a breast. Gold pressed his lips to her neck, tasting the light sheen of sweat.

Belle pressed against him, sighing. “A girl could get used to this.”

He kissed her neck again. “A man could hope she would.”

Belle placed her hand over his. Snuggled together, they drifted off to sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

When they woke they had shifted positions entirely and were facing each other, legs entwined comfortably, arms thrown haphazardly across each other’s torsos, and foreheads pressed together.

Belle yawned, sighing like a kitten. Gold kissed her, and she smiled against his lips.

“Good afternoon.”

“Very.”

“Should we be getting up, then?”

“That depends what you want to do with our last few hours of daylight.”

“I’d like… I think I’d like to kick your ass at Mario Kart.”

He laughed, hand tightening on her side. “Them’s fightin’ words, sweetheart. I’d be happy to destroy you at Mario Kart, but I think there’s one little thing we should do first.” He trailed his fingers down over her hip.

“Round two already?”

“Not quite what I had in mind…”

Belle sighed, rolling onto her back. “So it’s business, not pleasure.”

“Who says you can’t have both?” Gold leaned over her, placing a kiss to her breast. He moved slowly, placing kisses across her chest, making sure to kiss each and every one of her ribs. She sucked in a breath when he reached her lower abdomen, the skin more sensitive. He detoured across her right thigh, climbing into position between her legs.

“It’s been ages since I had a taste of you… Shall I deliver a happy ending?”

“I don’t need one. I’m still tingling from earlier.”

“Then I’ll endeavor to be quick.”

Belle had braced herself for the wave of energy that usually came from their dealings, but both parties were pleasantly surprised to find that there was no electric charge. It still felt sensual and wonderful, but without any sting. She moaned, spreading her legs wider as his tongue lapped at the blood between her folds.

He finished quickly, as promised, and placed a series of kisses across her left thigh. She giggled.

“Are you ready to be destroyed, my darling?”

“Oh Rumple… I’m going to kick your ass.”

Laughing, he clambered off the bed and began dressing. “We’ll just see about that. I’m unbeaten.”

“Have you ever played against anyone else?”

“…Technicality.”

Belle grinned, rolling off the bed to her feet. “When I’m through with you, you’ll be begging me for mercy.”

“You could have that anytime you like.”

She stepped back into her lacy black panties, making a show of sliding them up her legs. She walked over to her bag, sitting on the floor in the corner, and bent over as low as she could. She heard him groan.

Belle grabbed a simple cotton sundress and tugged it on. Gold was waiting for her with an open arm that he wrapped around her waist.

“Now, let me guess, you’re the Princess Peach type.”

“In your dreams, maybe.”

* * *

 

Belle kicked his ass.

They spent another night together, full of slow and lingering touches. In the morning when Belle woke, Gold was not beside her.

She dressed, rubbed her eyes sleepily, and wandered down the halls until she found him hunched over a book in his study. He looked up hopelessly as she entered, his melancholy tainting every inch of his smile.

“I’m sorry, my dear, I didn’t intend for you to wake up alone.”

“Something’s wrong.”

“…No, nothing-”

“Don’t lie to me Rumple,” she said, stepping around his desk to his side.

He sighed. “I should have known better.” Wrapping an arm around her waist, he coaxed Belle to sit on his lap. She draped her arms around his shoulders and leaned into his embrace.

“What is it?”

“I’ve been doing that research we talked about.”

“…And?”

He sighed heavily. His voice wavered as he spoke. “And I think I understand the problem.”

“Rumple… Please, don’t draw this out.”

“…It’s the blood magic. I was a fool to think that a contract would be enough to rewrite the laws of the supernatural. I told you that you had to be willing, didn’t I?”

“Yes, I remember that. I had to be sure I wanted to make the deal. I was.”

“It didn’t matter. You weren’t really willing, not in the way that the magic intended. For a while there, you even hated me.”

“I never hated you.”

“However you want to say it, you were giving your blood under a financial obligation, and not out of the goodness in your heart.”

“But so what? What did that do?”

His demeanor, which had been almost frantic, turned sad. “Bad magic…. It’s almost like poison. It doesn’t kill you immediately, but it clings to your insides and works away at you until there’s nothing left. It’s in us, Belle.”

Belle blinked, her face wrinkling as she thought. “So you’re saying that it’s our… our broken bond… that makes our sessions so intense?”

“I’m certain of it.”

“But that doesn’t seem logical!”

He shrugged. “I think it’s a warning system of sorts. Our touches are so intense because they are dangerous. The more we’re together, the worse we get.”

“No. No,” she said, shaking her head vigorously. “No, I don’t accept that.”

“It’s not up to us to accept, Belle. It’s fact.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that I’ve studied these books for the last five months, and I haven’t found anything else that is even plausible. This is it. This has to be it.”

“Ok, let’s say this is it. Then what do we do? How do we fix it?”

He started to tear up, one hand touching her cheek. Seeing him on the verge of crying sent her over the edge, a horrible sadness bubbling out of her chest.

“We, um… We have to be apart. For a long time. It resets the bond, supposedly.”

“How long?”

He didn’t answer, his fingers stroking across her cheek.

“Rumple? How long?”

“For as long as we’ve been together. Five months.”

Belle felt her whole body tense and go cold. “Five… Five months?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, this is my fault.”

“No,” she said, shushing him and raking a hand through his hair. “No it’s not your fault! It’s okay. We’re going to be okay. It’s just five months,” she said, pitching forward to bury her face in his neck, clinging to him.

He held her with equal ferocity, one arm around her lower back and the other at her shoulders.

For a little while they just sat, silent tears rolling down cheeks and getting caught in hair and on clothes. They breathed like one body, but mourned like two.

When they finally pulled back, Belle cupping Rum’s face in her hands, he spoke the words that needed to be said.

“You have to go.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know. But every minute we’re together is another compounded onto our time apart.”

“Will you be alright?”

“I hope so. I won’t go into town; we can’t risk seeing one another.”

“I can’t even see you?”

“No,” he said, holding her tighter.

“You have to promise me you’ll be good. Don’t take it out on Mrs. Potts and Dove.”

“I promise. And what about you?” He gently grasped her chin in one hand.

“I’ll be okay.”

“Belle…”

“I will! I’ll be okay. It’s you I’m worried about.”

He kissed her then, with as much ardor as one might expect before a long absence. They parted with a gasp, Belle’s tears rolling anew.

“Rumple, I-”

“Don’t. Please don’t say it,” he begged. “If you do… I won’t be able to let you go.”

Belle sobbed, nodding. “Okay. Okay. What’s the day, the exact minute we can be together again?”

“November, the second of November. That should be safe.”

“Let’s say the third then, to be extra safe.”

“The third of November.”

“Meet me on Main Street. The crossroads.”

“A flair for the dramatic?”

“I think it suits the occasion.” She sighed. “Okay, I’m going to pack my bag. Will you meet me by the front door to say goodbye?”

“Sure.”

Slowly she stood, disentangling her limbs from his. He watched her as she left, hands rubbing at her eyes.

Upstairs she threw all her clothes back into her bag, all her shoes and her toiletries, and she had another short cry on her bed, until she thought she’d never cry again. Five months. June, July, August, September, October – it would be winter when they reunited. He’d miss her birthday. Would she miss his? She didn’t even know when his birthday was.

Her body literally ached at the thought. She hadn’t gone more than a week without seeing him in… oh God, in over a month now. Now they had to be apart for twenty weeks… how on Earth would she survive?

When she made it back down to the entryway, he wasn’t there. Dove was.

“Oh no,” she said, shaking her head, “he can’t do this to me. He can’t!” She threw her bag to the manservant and turned, pounding on his study door. “GOLD! GOLD! COME SEE ME THIS INSTANT YOU BASTARD!” She wanted to use his first name, wanted to curse him, but Dove was hanging at her shoulder.

“I’m sorry Miss Belle. He gave me very strict orders.”

The tears began to pour again, burning. “He can’t do this Dove. It isn’t fair.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He pulled her into a hug, and held her until she gained the strength to leave.


	21. Chapter 21

He watched her from the window, his nails digging into the wood of the frame. His eyes stayed glued to the horizon far after she’d gone beyond it; he stayed until he could no longer smell her or feel the ghost of her touch, long after sunset.

She was gone. She was gone, gone, _gone gone GONE_. She had to be gone. She was gone.

Dove followed his orders to stay the fuck out of Gold’s way, and he spent the night prowling around her favorite places. His bed, the library, the entertainment room, the greenhouse. He saved her bedroom for last, which was for the best. He found the gift she’d left on the pillow.

A very familiar pair of black undies.

He clutched them to his chest and lay on her bed howling until his throat was raw.


	22. Chapter 22

June 4th: One week. Belle comes to work in disarray. Her makeup is ruined. Gold leaves his study for the first time in three days; Dove finds it in shambles.

June 11th: Two weeks. Belle is snapped from reverie more times than anyone can count. Apologizes, says she isn’t sleeping. Gold alternates between screaming at his business associates and staring at walls in silence. There is no middle ground.

June 25th: One month. Ruby takes Belle out to cheer her up. Belle orders a whiskey and downs it. Ruby holds her hair while she pukes in an alley. Gold doesn’t move for 26 hours straight.

July 9th: Six weeks. Gold turns over the business dealings to Dove with instructions that “he has left the country on sudden business and is not reachable”. Belle realizes that she’s still receiving payments from him.

July23rd: Eight weeks. Belle is seen sitting outside Granny’s in every moment of her spare time, muttering “three to go” at irregular intervals. She stares at the roof of a mansion visible on the horizon. Gold stays in a bath until he can no longer feel, well… anything. It is a struggle for him to get up.

August 13th: Gold finds a bottle of whiskey in his study. He picks it up, uncorks it, smells it, and breaks it open in the kitchen sink. He plays with the glass shards and giggles, until a black cloud overtakes him and he runs from the room suddenly. He did not even notice Mrs. Potts.

September 10th: Gold stands on his roof. The wind smells like her.

September 17th: Gold resumes the day-to-day runnings of his businesses.

October 15th: Despite having three tenants unable to pay their rent, Gold only evicts one person.

October 29th: Gold buys a new suit.

November 2nd: Gold paces around the mansion all day.

November 3rd: Gold cuts many flowers from his garden to create a unique bouquet with a Belle’s Eye in the center. He arrives on Main Street at 8am. He lurks in an alley until 4pm.

November 4th: Astrid finds a ruined bouquet in the gutter outside the library, and plucks the most unusual rose from its center.


	23. Chapter 23

When Dove brought in the morning paper, damp with cold, Gold snarled. “I don’t want that rag.” His eyes caught on the date, November 18th, and he felt a surge of hatred in his gut. Hatred and anguish.

“Never remember forsaken November,” he muttered in a half-song under his breath. Fuck November. Fuck all Novembers. Fuck every day spent on this miserable planet, immune to the ravages of time. “Ravage me,” he whispered, chittering and sipping his blood.

Dove moved to stand beside Mrs. Potts in the doorway.

“Is he always like this?” she asked.

“Yes. He keeps it together when it matters, but the rest of the time… it’s like his mind is slipping.”

“Have you done it? The thing we mentioned?”

Dove guided them inside the kitchen and shut the door. Still, he moved further away and whispered. “Her car sits at her house all day. I haven’t seen her leave. She doesn’t work at the library anymore, and she hasn’t been seen around town at all. It’s like she’s disappeared.”

“Damn that girl,” Mrs. Potts muttered.

“I don’t think it was by choice, whatever happened.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Dove flushed, remembering each and every moment he’d seen them together over the months of their deal. “Because. They’re in love.”

“Past tense, Dearie,” Gold said from the doorway. The two jumped. “And I was in love. She’s gone. That speaks for itself.” He glared, but within a moment he was laughing, clapping his hands together.

“It’s rent day, Mr. Gold,” Dove said, changing the topic.

“I KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS!... I’ll put on my Sunday best, shall I?” The madman turned on his heel and skipped away, leaving two slightly shaken servants behind him.

Dove met the impeccable Mr. Gold by the door, all signs of his madness buried beneath a cruel smile and a red tie. Red as blood. He followed the Caddy in the black van, hopping out whenever Gold did. His job was mostly to look menacing.

When they arrived at Granny’s, Dove stayed outside. The grey-haired warrior woman had a very quick wit, and a mean tongue that usually lashed out at him at least as much as it did to Gold; the difference was that Dove had much thinner skin.

So he sat outside and observed a nuthatch in a tree, an oddity for this time of year, and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. Gold came swaggering through the door like a wolf who’d made a fresh kill, and Dove was unsurprised to see the younger warrior come storming through the door.

“You’re a miserable old shitstain, Gold!”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Dearie!”

“Treating us this way is one thing, but Belle… For half a minute there, I believed you loved her.”

Gold had stopped as soon as the name was spoken. He looked cold, turning slowly to glare at Ruby.

“How can you live with yourself?” she asked, advancing down the little porch to confront Gold.

“What are you taking about?” he growled.

“Belle, and your despicable abandonment of the one person on this Earth who tolerated you and your miserable, conniving ways.”

“I didn’t leave!” he said, spittle flying from his mouth. “I didn’t leave her!”

Suddenly Ruby drew back, a look of shock on her face. Dove leaned forward, listening. After a long moment, Ruby spoke again. “You don’t know.”

“Know? Know what?”

“Belle. Where she is.”

Gold closed the gap, looking up into Ruby’s face. “And where the devil is she?”

Ruby didn’t speak, her lips forming words that didn’t solidify.

“I asked you a question. _Where is Belle_?”

“Her dad had her committed. She’s in the mental wing of the hospital. They won’t let anyone in to see her, I’ve tried, but it’s locked down tight.”

“C...Com… You can’t just have people _committed_.”

“She was all moony after you, acting more strange than normal, I guess, and he got people to agree that she was a danger to herself and others.”

Gold worked his jaw like he was gritting his teeth. If looks could kill, the pavement would be pushing daisies. “How long?”

“I… She…”

“ _How long?!_ ”

“Since August.”

Dove felt a chill deep in his bones as Gold turned from the brunette, tossing his Cadillac keys into the larger man’s hand.


	24. Chapter 24

Belle heard shouting from down the hall. Well, not so much shouting as the beginning of a shout silenced suddenly, followed by a loud banging and the cries of the person Belle had dubbed “Edvard Munch”.

She slowly uncurled herself and stood from her cot. For a blind second she allowed herself the hope that always surged whenever she heard footsteps down the hall, but then, as she had learned to do with practice, she dimmed the hope. It wasn’t lost, not entirely, but it didn’t do to go running every time the orderly brought lunch.

The screams continued, but Belle thought she heard something else beneath the din.

It sounded vaguely like her own name. Walking to the door, Belle tried to pry open the little sliding window.

There it was, her name again. Dare she hope?

“Rumple?” she shouted, banging against the door with the flat of her hands. “Rumple is that you?”

“BELLE!” It _was_ her name, and clearer now. Closer.

“I’m here! I’m right here!” she called.

Suddenly the little window snapped open, and she was looking into the brown eyes that she’d been dreaming of night and day for the last five and ¾ months. A sob ripped from her throat.

“Step aside, my love.”

She scrambled back and to the side, bracing herself on the wall perpendicular to the door. With a deafening roar, he ripped the metal door from its hinges. He was in before the metal had even stopped rocking on the floor, and Belle was throwing herself into his arms.

“I knew you’d come. I knew it.”

“Come on, sweetheart, we’ve got to go.”

He kept an arm around her waist and the other free. He dragged her towards the door.

“Wait, Rumple, what about the others?”

“What?”

“The other people here. What about them?”

“Belle, some of them might belong here.”

“But not all! We have to help them.”

He sighed. “Sweetheart I promise, we’ll help them through legal channels, or some other way. I’ve got to get you safe.”

“Promise me we’ll help them.”

“I promise!” he said, dragging her forward. He rushed her up the stairs and through the nearest emergency exit. The fire alarm started blaring.

The Cadillac was waiting, front seat already pulled forward. He ushered Belle into the back and climbed in beside her. Dove had hardly closed the door before he stepped on the gas.

Belle looked out the window, incredulous. The hospital grew smaller and smaller behind them, as if the last three, nearly four months of imprisonment had been nothing more than a bad dream.

Gold was beside her, his hands fluttering nervously, torn between touching her and not. She smiled to see that he hadn’t changed, and scooted closer to him, wrapping her arms around his middle.

“I missed you,” she said, face pressed to his chest. He smelled wonderful, and not at all like antiseptic.

Slowly, he brought his arms around her, the pressure of his hands a most welcome touch. God, she missed being touched.

“I… I missed you too,” he whispered. She heard the trepidation in his voice.

“Where are we going?”

“Home. My home,” he clarified quickly, “which I guess is your home too…I-if you want it to be.”

“You just broke me out of a mental ward. They’re going to look for me.”

“You weren’t legally detained, actually. No file on you exists. Anymore. So, they have no right to lock you up again. And I think anyone who tried would find themselves in need of a long hospital stay, as well.”

Belle made a sound of discontent, pulling her head back enough to look up at him. “Don’t hurt anyone, not for me. Not for my sake.”

“If they try to hurt you, you can believe I will fight back.”

She sat up, frowning. “To disarm only. Disarm, defend, words that start with the letter D.”

“Destroy. Decimate.”

“I’m serious, R-… You. You’re good, you really are. Show me how good you can be.”

“Belle, I…” He sighed and cleared his throat. “We’ll talk more about this at home, okay?”

She nodded, leaning back into his embrace. Soon they arrived at the mansion, and Belle refused to let go of him, her fingers squeezing his.

“Do you want to eat? I can’t imagine they fed you well in there. Or maybe you’d like to sleep?”

“I’d really like a shower, actually. One that’s warm, without Nurse Ratchet watching me.”

“Of course. I’ll walk with you to your chamber.”

“Would you stay with me?” Belle blushed as they started up the stairs. “I mean, in the bathroom. While I shower. I don’t…I don’t really want to be alone.”

“Of course,” he said, his voice catching as it had in the car. “Of course, I won’t leave your side.”

They reached the bathroom, and Gold sat primly on the toilet. He looked away as Belle started to undress. She laughed, a beautiful scarlet creeping over her chest.

“You’ve seen me naked before, Rum.”

“That was… that was a long time ago.”

Belle caressed his face, turning his head to look at her. “Five months or yesterday, it makes no difference to me. You came through when I needed you, and my feelings haven’t changed.” She smiled, her eyes beginning to water, and he hummed as he nuzzled her hand.

She pulled away to finish undressing. One of the luxuries of (his) wealth was that Belle didn’t have to wait for the water to heat; it was ready as soon as she turned it on. The stone chamber for the shower was large, partially hidden by a wall of glass blocks, but from the toilet he would be able to see her, and she him. She stepped under the spray and sighed. For a long time she just stood, letting the water soak her hair and her skin.

Gold watched as she reached for the shampoo. “You’re bruised,” he said, standing and stepping forward. The water flecked his pants.

Belle touched her skin gingerly, aware of how the fading injuries must look. “I wasn’t very cooperative at first. Or ever, really.”

He smirked briefly. “Are you in pain?”

“No. But I’m a little stiff,” she said, wincing as she reached for the loofa. “Okay, make that a lot stiff. Could you get my back?”

“Of course.” He almost stepped into the shower fully clothed, but then thought better of it. He stripped quickly before joining her, taking the plastic puff and squeezing some of his favorite body wash onto it. It smelled like coconut.

As he began to wash her back, she lathered her hair with shampoo. He started in the most innocuous way, cleaning the space between her shoulder blades, but as he moved lower he began to feel stirrings of that old familiar lust. He knelt to wash the back of her legs, careful to get every inch, including her buttocks.

She turned to rinse and he came face to face with her vulva and the heady scent of her sex. Belle didn’t seem to think anything of it, tilting her head back to rinse her hair. Gold made a noise between a whimper and a growl. His head bobbed towards her leg but he didn’t touch her.

She raked a hand through his hair. “What is it, Rum?”

“I want to kiss you.”

“You don’t need to ask.”

“I do.”

“Then kiss me. Please.”

He pressed his face to her thigh, placing kiss after kiss to the milky flesh. She felt his teeth rasp against her skin and she shuddered. He moved to the other thigh.

“This is going to be a long shower if you keep helping.”

“I’ll help. You finish your hair,” he said, picking up the loofa from where it had fallen and re-soaping it. He washed her from the toes up, careful to get the insides of her thighs but not to breech the outer labia, and worked all the way to her shoulders while she conditioned her hair and combed through it with her fingers. She giggled as he scrubbed her armpits.

He reached around her to rinse the loofa. Belle draped her arms around his neck, grinning. She stepped back, pulling him under the stream. Her hands ran through his hair again, dipping to his neck and over his shoulders, running down his arms. She kissed him, their first since being reunited, and the water from the shower pouring over their faces only diminished it a little.

When they finally broke apart, she was smiling and he was crying. It took Belle just a moment to notice.

“No, what’s wrong? What’s wrong Rumple?” She cradled his face in her hands, forehead pressed to his. Fumbling, she turned off the water.

“I left you there!” he cried, hands squeezing her hips. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault.”

“No, no, it isn’t. It isn’t at all your fault!”

“It is! When you didn’t show I should have looked for you. I should have known something was wrong. Instead I locked myself away, half-mad, and you spent another two weeks in that hole.”

“How could you have known?”

“I should have known! Four months, Belle, you were in there for four months!” He was sobbing now, burying his head against her neck.

She rubbed his back. She let him cry for a few minutes before she spoke again. “I’m okay, Rumple. Really. Please don’t blame yourself. Do you remember, before I left… there was something I had to say to you.”

“Don’t, Belle… Don’t say it.”

“Why not? If you know what it is, why can’t I say it?”

“Because it isn’t real. It can’t be real.”

“Rumple, you aren’t making any sense.”

“You can’t love me! No one can! And if you loved me then the betrayal is so much the worse, isn’t it? I left the only woman who ever loved me in an insane asylum because I wasn’t brave enough. Because it was easier to believe that you’d come to your senses than to believe that you really love me!”

“Oh Rumple,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to his. “How long did it take you to come get me after you found out where I was?”

“That doesn’t matter…”

“How long?”

“…The time it took me to get to the hospital.”

“Exactly. You can’t blame yourself! If our positions had been reversed, I would have made the same assumption. I would have felt abandoned and alone, heartbroken. But you came for me,” she said, pressing her lips to his again in a tender kiss. “I love you, Rumplestiltskin. I loved you back in May and I love you now. Do you… Do you still care about me?”

“How can you even ask me that? Of course, Belle.” He kissed her, pulling her close. “I… I love you more than I can say, more than I can even admit to myself.”

“Then what are we crying about, hmm?” She smiled again, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“I’m crying because you spent four months in isolation, being mistreated, and you still have the kindest, gentlest spirit I’ve ever seen.”

Belle looked down, her features darkening. “I don’t want to give that place anymore of myself by thinking about it. I just want to rinse this conditioner out of my hair and curl up in bed with you, kissing until we fall asleep. Is that alright?”

He nodded, kissing her again. “Towels. I’ll grab towels.” He stepped out of the shower and Belle turned the water back on, combing through her hair again until the conditioner was gone.

When she was done, he was waiting with a fluffy towel that he wrapped around her, his calloused hands helping to dry her off. She smiled at the warm feeling it created inside her to see his tender gaze as he worked down her body, patting her dry. As he finished he wrapped the towel around her hair and wrung it gently. Belle closed the inches between them to kiss him.

He returned her affection, his hands dropping the towel to cup her face. Belle hummed against his lips, wanting to deepen the kiss but also feeling the chill of the air on her damp skin. She pulled away for air, pushing gently on his shoulders until he began moving with her towards the bedroom.

He followed her under the covers without taking his hand from her arm. Belle curled against him the moment he tucked the blankets around them both. She sought his lips. They fell asleep kissing, as promised.

Rumple woke to Belle crying. She was shaking something fierce, and he clutched her to his chest as his hands rubbed over her back. He didn’t say anything.

Around three Mrs. Potts brought a tray of food, and she continued to do so every few hours for the next two days. Rumple hadn’t asked her to, but she had always been very good at reading his mind.

It was the 20th (and many tears later) when they finally got up and dressed. They didn’t stray far, just to the garden, but it was progress. Belle loved the crisp, fresh air and the crunchy leaves beneath her feet. Most of all she loved the way that Rumple stayed close by her side, his fingers entwined with hers, a gentle smile gracing his lips.

“Hey,” she said, hopping down from the low garden wall where she’d been walking.

“Mhmm?”

“I love you.”

He grinned, and maybe blushed a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good. I love you too.”

“Really?”

“Indeed,” he said, stopping and pulling Belle flush against him. He kissed her.

“We’re very lucky, then. Both of us being in love with one another. What a stroke of good fortune.”

“You said it, my love.” He kissed her again, and again, and again, until he felt Belle shiver from the cold. “Let’s go back inside.”

“Let’s go back to bed,” she said flirtatiously, biting her lower lip and tugging on his hand.

“Belle, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because, you’ve been through a tremendous ordeal.”

“And I think I deserve to relax in a manner of my choosing.”

“You could take a bath, or I could give you a foot rub.”

“Sweet, but not quite what I had in mind. I missed you, Rum. I thought a lot about our last few nights together while we were apart. Surely you did too?”

He cleared his throat. “I did.”

“Don’t you want to… make some new memories?”

He held open the door for her as they re-entered the house. “Of course I do. That’s beside the point.”

“Well, then what is the point?”

“That you’re… you’re…”

“Fragile? Weak?”

“No! No of course not! I just don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Belle rolled her eyes as they started up the stairs. “Oh right, I forgot that literally asking you for sex was the same thing as being taken advantage of.”

Gold grabbed her hand. “Belle, please.”

“If not now, when? When will I be strong enough to decide that I want you? This is the same argument we had before, Rumple. You’re always worried about taking advantage of me, when all I want is to be closer to you. I love you. I will never stop loving you.” She smiled, brushing the hair from his face. “Even if we never have sex again.”

He sighed, and moved closer to kiss her. “It sounds so easy when you say it like that.”

“Come on,” she said, tugging his hand. “We can go cuddle for a while, and I’ll tell you over and over how madly in love with you I am.”

She stripped them both down to their underwear before climbing into the bed. She pulled him into her arms.

“You know, you’re very concerned with how I’m dealing with our separation. How are you holding up?”

“Me? Oh, I’m fine.”

“Rumple… I know you better than that.”

“Okay, so I took it hard. Do you remember what I said the first time we made love?”

“Yes. You were worried you wouldn’t be able to let me go.”

“And what happened right after that?”

“...It was rather poor timing.”

“It was.”

“I love you,” she said, kissing him. “I love you, and, barring unforeseeable magic or catastrophe, we won’t ever be apart again.”

“And what about time?”

“What about it?”

“I’m immortal, or I was the last time I checked.”

Belle just shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “I figured we’d either find a way to make you mortal, or you’d turn me into a vampire. Whatever.”

He looked at her like she was insane. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple. You’re my true love, Rum. I’m not letting anything tear us apart.”

He chuckled, pressing his forehead against hers. “You see things in black and white, don’t you?”

“Sometimes. So… would you like to hear it again?”

“…Yes.”

“I love you,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his.

“I love you, Belle.”

She kissed him hungrily, hoping her lips could convey a tenth of her feeling. For a little while it was all lips, but then, much to Belle’s joy, his hands stared to wander. She gasped as he squeezed her ass, pressing her smile to his lips. She buried one hand in his hair, tugging it gently, and let the other wander down to his own supple behind.

He groaned, hips rocking against her thigh.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his fingers sliding from her ass over her hip to the front of her underwear.

“ _Yes_ ,” was all she managed as he stroked her through the fabric. “Oh yes!” she whined as he worked around, sliding a digit between her folds. “Wh-why… Why did you change your mind?”

“Do you really want to ask that now?” he asked, applying pressure to her clit.

“Fuck! Yes…”

“I’m taking a page out of your book. Blind belief, black and white, etc.,” he purred, slipping his middle finger into her. “You love me. I love you… I long to feel you clench around me again, I want it more than I can sa-a-ay!” He croaked as she cupped him through his briefs.

“Is that right? Not five minutes ago you were worried about taking advantage of me.”

“It’s hard for me to… to reconcile the two… the doubt and the desire. I don’t know what you see in me.”

“You just answered your own question, I think,” she said, giving him a squeeze. “I know you. I see you.” She slipped her hand inside the fabric, letting her fingers slide down his shaft.

He bucked into her teasing, and increased the speed with which his finger probed her entrance. She purred, hips shifting.

“Like that, pet?” he asked.

“Oh yes...”

He rubbed her clit with more vigor, and added a second digit when he entered her again. She grunted. Her arousal was quickly making her slick, the heady smell filling Gold with lust.

“Tell me.”

“I like it… I like it when you use your fingers on me.”

“How many times do you want to come?”

Belle laughed. “I don’t have a number in mind.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to give you as many as possible.”

“What if I only want one?” she asked, withdrawing her hand. She shoved his shoulders and rolled atop him, took both his hands, and pressed herself firmly against him. “One really big, explosive, sticky orgasm?”

He groaned, hips bucking upwards. “You deserve better.”

She clucked her tongue. “Not this again. I want you inside me, Rum,” she said, grinding down against his hardening cock. “Don’t make me wait.”

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Fuck, I want to be inside you.”

“That’s my good boy.” She rolled her hips and released his hands. She climbed off him for just a moment, pushing off her own underwear. Rumple did the same. They collided as each tried to be on top.

“You were on top last time,” she said, “which means it’s my turn.”

“That was ages ago, so it doesn’t count.”

“It does too count!”

“I’m stronger,” he said, rolling atop her and pinning her hands.

Belle bit her lower lip and grinned. “You’re a cheat, Rumplestiltskin.”

“And you love it,” he said, grinding his erect cock against her vulva. She gasped, back arching slightly.

“Oh fuck, I do! I do love it.” She widened her legs as much as possible to accommodate the movement of his hips, craving the electric feel of him in her most intimate place. “You know, you might need a hand to get lined up.”

“And if I let go, what sort of nefarious deeds will you get up to?”

“I might… bury my fingers in your hair.”

“How dastardly.”

He released a hand and, true to her promise, she buried it in his silky strands, gripping close to the scalp to keep him close. Gold reached down and lined his cock up with her entrance, the blunt head of him sliding eagerly in her wetness.

“Oh God, yes Rum!”

“Belle, please…?”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

He pushed into her slowly until he was buried. His eyes squeezed shut and his mouth popped open. Her hand tightened in his hair as her back arched off the bed, a cry ripping from her throat.

When he could muster speech, he gasped. “Oh _Belle_.”

She just laughed, her body shifting to accommodate him. When her tongue finally caught up to her insides, she spoke. “God Rum, this is it! This is perfect! You feel perfect in me… Rummm…” Her grin spread from ear to ear and she held him tightly against her, the hand not in his hair gripping his bicep.

He was slow to start moving, and very gentle as he withdrew from her and thrust back in. Her ecstatic cries encouraged him, and it wasn’t long before they had found a rhythm that satisfied both parties.

Gold buried his head in her neck while his hips did the hard work. Belle could feel the points of his fangs against her skin as he kissed her. She keened, legs wrapping around him.

“Christ, Belle!”

“Are you tempted?” she asked, gasping.

“By what, my love?”

“To bite me.”

He growled against her neck, hips snapping into her. “No, I would never.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Belle-”

Her hand stroked through his hair. “Do you want me?”

“Of course.”

“Are you tempted to bite me? Be ho-honest! Oh fuck!”

When he didn’t respond, she tugged on his hair, pulling his head back and crashing her lips against his. “Tell me!” she said between kisses.

“Yes! God yes, Belle. You’re intoxicating, and I would love to taste your blood on my tongue, hot and fresh. But I can get the same thing from your cunt, darling, and that way I can live with myself.”

Belle groaned, hips rolling in time with his thrusts. “Yes… yes!”

“Since when... oh fuck… since when do you have a vampire fetish?”

“Not vamp-pires-s… J-just you!” She cried, the hand not in his hair reaching down to claw at his back. “Harder Rum, please! Harder!”

He acquiesced, bucking into her more roughly. Belle’s breasts and body bounced with each thrust, her cries growing louder, her arms holding him tighter.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, grunting with each powerful thrust.

“Yes, yes!”

“Good. I want to feel that… that wet cunt of yours… clenching around my cock.”

“YES! Oh god, oh fuck me Rum!”

He muttered her name with each stroke, his hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead. She kissed every inch of him she could reach; his jaw, his cheek, his neck, his ear. She nipped his earlobe, tugging on it.

He growled, grinding against her in punishment. She screamed in delight as his pelvis put pressure on her clit.

“YES! YES! YES RUM!”

“That’s my girl,” he growled, pulling back only to slam in and grind again, rolling his hips.

“Christ, Yes!” she cried, her breathing becoming ragged as she neared climax.

“Come for me,” he groaned. “Come for me, Belle.”

“Ruuuhh… Ruuuhh… MMmmmm!” Her nails dug into his skin as her back arched off the mattress, her muscles squeezing him as she came and her cries echoed around the room.

Rum continued his thrusting, though more gently, the sensation of her around him enough to bring him to the edge. “Oh God, oh Belle!”

“L-love… love you,” she panted as she collapsed back against the bed, limbs heavy.

He cursed as he came, jerking against her before dropping. Gingerly he pulled out, rolling to the side. Belle rolled with him, her forehead pressed to his.

He whispered her name. “I love you. Promise me you won’t leave.”

“I’ll never leave you. Never.” She kissed him passionately, entwining her fingers with his. They kissed until her lips were swollen and the heaviness of sleep was wearing on her. “How do we keep doing this?”

“Doing wha?” he slurred, kissing her chin.

“Falling asleep at noon. I’m not a vampire, you know; you’re throwing off my sleep schedule.”

“You’ve discovered my nefarious plan,” he said, kissing his way down her neck, “to keep you in bed and have my way with you.”

“Night, morning... I’m yours,” she purred, nuzzling closer to him. “But now I’m sleeping.”

“I’m a bit tired myself. This girl I know… she really knocks me out.”

“Kiss me.”

He did, his eyes raking over her face as he pulled away. “Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight, Rumplestiltskin. Will you still be here when I wake up?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good,” she said, kissing him again before tucking her head beneath his chin. She succumbed to the sleepiness, Gold’s arms wrapped securely around her, and shortly after he did the same.


	25. Chapter 25

Belle woke sometime in the afternoon, to Rumple slipping out of bed.

“Hey! Not this again.”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” he whispered, turning back to cover her face in kisses. “I need to eat.”

“I’m right here,” she said, raising an arm, the inside of her wrist pointed towards him. “I’ve got plenty of blood.”

“I’m on a strict pig’s blood diet, my darling,” he said, plying her lips with his. “Drinking humans is cannibalism, and that’s highly frowned upon by society.” He kissed her a few more times before pulling away, Belle whining.

“Promise me you’ll be right back.”

“Two shakes of a lamb’s rump,” he said, tapping her behind. She smiled.

He pulled on his discarded pants and shirt, not bothering to button the latter.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t you dare move an inch.”

“Bring me a snack?”

Gold laughed. “Sure.”

He slipped out of the room, the door hanging open. Belle lay back against the pillows, her mind entirely too active. Whenever she was alone for any period of minutes, she thought about the hospital. She thought about the crippling loneliness, the terrible isolation, the physical wounds and the psychological.

In her nightmares she was convinced that she’d never left; the rescue and the days since were just a fantasy concocted in her lowest moments. If she opened her eyes she’d see the bare white walls and feel the scratchy wool and know that no one in the world really cared about her. No one.

He was gone entirely too long. After a while she heard a banging, then raised voices. She stood and shivered in the cold. They had talked of sending Dove to fetch her clothes, but he’d yet to do so. There was a black robe in the bathroom, like the one she’d seen him throw on when she caught him boxing all those years ago.

Belle left her room and walked down the hall. When she reached the top of the staircase, her breath caught in her throat.

Her father was at the door.

He was purple in the face and screaming, but Rumple was keeping him out with a single hand planted firmly on Moe’s chest. It took every ounce of Belle’s strength for her to walk down the stairs, but she did. When he saw her, Moe started to turn pale.

“Belle,” he blubbered, pushing his way into the hall. Gold snarled, stepping back and wrapping an arm firmly around Belle’s waist as she reached the bottom floor.

“Hello, Moe.”

“I’m sorry, Bluebell. Please forgive me.”

“For what, exactly?”

“I thought that place would be good for you. I thought…”

“Shut up, you piece of-”

Belle silenced Gold with a hand on his arm.

“How can you stay here, Belle? He’s a monster!”

“There’s only one monster here, Moe, and it isn’t him.” Belle stepped out of Rumple’s embrace and grabbed the door. “Please leave. And don’t ever, ever come back.”

“Belle,” Moe said, starting to cry. “I’m your father. You have to forgive me. I love you!”

“I will never forgive you, and you are no longer my family.”

“I’m sober now. Things will be different!”

“I don’t care.”

“So what, you’re just going to stay here with him? With this beast?!”

“He’s a man, and a far better one than you. And yes, I will stay here with him. This is my home. Now get out.”

Moe stumbled back into the doorway, and she swung the heavy wood, forcing him onto the front steps.

Belle stepped away from the door like it was poisonous. Gold opened his arms and folded them around her when she leaned against his chest.

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

“Water. Advil. To go back to bed.”

“Let’s go back upstairs. There’s Advil in my bathroom.” Belle just nodded. He guided her up the stairs and she climbed into his bed while he grabbed the bottle and water. She took the pills gratefully and drank the whole glass; he set it on the side table. Gold curled against her backside, wrapping his arms around her.

Belle started to cry softly. He just held her for some time, until her sniffles subsided and she started to talk.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, my darling. You couldn’t have known that Moe would show up.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

“I’m sorry that you have to take care of me.”

“What? No, Belle, that’s not it at all.”

“Isn’t it? I have no home, no friends to speak of, except maybe Ruby if she ever comes around, no job… I’m totally alone except for you. And you’ve taken me in like a stray pup-”

“Hang on, I thought self-doubt and loathing was my job.”

Belle sighed.

“Hey,” he said, turning her face and leaning to look at her. “I love you. If you want to move out on your own, I’ll buy you your own place. If you want to stake me in the heart and live here, it’s yours. I don’t care. All of my Earthly possessions and all the dust in this ragged old heart, it all belongs to you. You have me. Is that… is that alright?”

Belle smiled, rolling over to face him. “You’re all I want. How did I get so lucky to get you?”

“I’m the lucky one.”

They kissed.

“Rumple, are we going to be able to help the other people trapped in that awful place?”

“Yes, of course. I promised, didn’t I?”

“But how? How can we help?”

“I uh, well, I’m a lawyer. I used to be a good one.”

“…Seriously? You have a law degree.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve passed the Bar?”

“…Yes.”

“How has that not come up before?”

“I mentioned that I have a few degrees.”

“Will I ever learn all your secrets?”

“It might take a couple of centuries.”

“Then we have plenty of time,” she said, kissing him again and letting her eyes flutter shut. “Can we start tomorrow? Helping them, I mean.”

“Yes, I think we can. Can I ask you a question?”

Belle smiled. “Sure thing.”

“What do you hope to gain from helping them? Aside from your natural, overwhelming compassion.”

She made a noise in her throat, curling closer to him. She pressed her face to his hairless chest and inhaled him. “I think it will help me heal. I’m grateful to you for saving me, but I also need to know that no one else will be unjustly imprisoned there ever again.”

“We can do that. I promise.”

“Thank you, Rum.” Belle yawned. “Would you be mad if I took a nap?”

“Not at all. Want me to go?”

Belle looked at him, eyebrows raised. “…Seriously?”

He blushed sheepishly. Belle smiled and pressed her nose to his cheek before speaking.

“No, I do not want you to go. I want you to hold me, just like this, so that I can feel you beneath my fingers and I can smell your soap, and I can kiss you anytime I want. See?” She kissed him again, her lips slanting against his. He returned her affection with equal devotion.

When she finally pulled away, she smiled and pressed her face into the crook of his neck.

“If you need to leave for whatever reason, wake me up, okay?”

“Yes. Sorry. Yes.”

“I love you, Rumplestiltskin.”

“I love you, Belle.”


	26. Chapter 26

Belle laughed as Rumple locked his arms around her waist, his lips refusing to let go of hers no matter how many times she tried to break the kiss.

“Mr. Gold,” she said, putting her hands on his chest. He continued to chase her inch by inch, lips capturing hers, grin plastered across his face. “Mr. Gold! I have to get back to work!”

“Just one more,” he said, kissing her again. “Maybe one more.” He bent his head, nibbling on her neck.

She moaned. “Darling… we’re in public.”

“I don’t care. I’ll devour you here,” he growled.

Belle pushed him off, smirking. “You’ll just have to wait until tonight, Mr. Gold. I have a job to do.” She walked backwards, heading towards the library.

“Wait I shall, Mrs. Gold. Will you be home for dinner?”

“Yours or mine?” she said, just flirtatiously enough to send a shiver down his spine. She turned and flounced away from Granny’s where they had shared a meal (or rather, where he had watched her eat and stroked her knee beneath the table) and couldn’t wipe the grin from her face.

She waved at familiar faces, people who had benefitted from Gold’s legal counsel and Belle’s stubborn refusal to let a single innocent person rot in Regina’s underground asylum. It had made her a few friends, and helped her deal with the complicated emotions that resulted from prolonged imprisonment. Well, therapy had helped too.

And the endless support of her loving husband, who would be waiting for her tonight with his big calloused hands and his husky voice, and his soft brown hair and his soft lips… She sighed. How many more hours in the work day?

She rubbed her wedding band as she sat at the circulation desk. Only four more hours. Four hours, and then she could climb him like a goddamn tree…

She sighed again, and then she smiled.


End file.
